There's at least one good thing about being diagnosed with pneumonia: Everyone knows what it is.
No need for long-winded explanations or that snooze-inducing word, eosinophils. If you think that coughing turns you into a social pariah, try dropping the word "eosinophils" into a conversation at a cocktail party. Eyes will glaze over. Heads will nod off to sleep. Gin and tonics will need to be refreshed. Long-lost friends from across the room will suddenly appear.
But, at the risk of putting all the new Cancer Banter followers into slumber mode, I don't think I have pneumonia. I believe that the cloudy x-ray with the infiltrates and the shortness of breath and the coughing and the fatigue are the work of those pesky little eosinophils. The prednisone has battered them down in my white blood, but I think they may have infiltrated my lungs.
My doctor, a hematologist, disagrees with me. He thinks that it's a simple case of pneumonia and that the antibiotics will have me healthy again in no time. I hope he's right.
I just saw my doctor on Farrah's Story, the Farrah Fawcett documentary of her struggles with cancer. He's shown at the City of Hope in a consultation with Farrah and her long-time love Ryan O'Neal. Now that's a love story.
But hematologists have nothing over Farrah and Ryan in the romance department. Don't forget that the "Eos" in eosinophils is from the Greek Goddess of the Dawn. And the "phils" is from the Greek word for love. As a matter of fact, two other components of the white blood end in love: neutrophils and basophils.
What's that you say? You need to refresh your gin and tonic? Alright then.
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