That totally sounds like an episode of ER! I hope Tim is breathing much easier now.

I googled, of course, and apparently spontaneous collapsed lungs are more common in young, tall men.

Heh. I'll tell him that; he'll appreciate it. (He is neither young nor tall. For real, he believed for YEARS that he's 5'10", even though when we hug I can almost look him in the eyes, and I am 5'6". Then one day he came home from an annual physical completely crestfallen. "Did you know I'm...only 5'8"?!?" he demanded? [Honestly, I think it's more like 5'7", but I won't begrudge his ego that inch.])

I *really* don't like the idea that our lungs can just decide to fuck off for no reason.

I *really* don't like the idea that our lungs can just decide to fuck off for no reason.

Me too! Also, the appendix! I mean, not only does it not actually DO anything, it can mess you up!

He looks tall in pictures. I guess it's the skinniness.

I would be monitoring every breath, waiting for a lung to suddenly go limp. Hell, I might do that anyway, though I am neither tall nor young nor male.

edit: How does air get out of the lung into the cavity? Does the lung spring a leak?

He looks tall in pictures.

That's what I was gonna say! Of course, to me 5'8" is tall. So.

I was supposed to run 3 miles today, I think I'm going to change into pajamas and eat some scrambled eggs instead.

My hand is really swollen, and I have no idea why. It's a couple of specific joints that are inflamed, and usually it gets like that if I've been doing a lot of writing by hand, since those are the joints that get pressure when I write, but I've done barely any writing lately. But those joints are really visibly swollen, and hurt like hell.

edit: How does air get out of the lung into the cavity? Does the lung spring a leak?

It can. That's the weird part about this: NO IDEA why it happened. I have to double check and see if his lung sprung a leak or what.

I ate some dinner and took ibuprofen, because as it turns out, Hulking out in the waiting room gives me a headache. Now I'm going to pack Tim a bag and head back over. I would smuggle in a cat if I could, but they're not very stealthy. (For real, though, when my brother was in the hospital for detox when he quit drinking, they allowed dogs to visit. Not just therapy dogs, but the patients' pets. They kept a bowl of treats at the information desk. That's so awesome. I would totally take Kato over if I was allowed.)

I was standing next to a dog on the subway tonight, and I don't think it was a service dog. If it was, it was poorly trained. It ended up laying its head on my foot, which I actually thought was kind of sweet, but can imagine many MANY people not appreciating!

I see "service" dogs at the supermarket and such, but they've generally been tiny things sitting up in their person's purse/bag and behaving themselves. I actually don't mind it, they're generally cleaner than the hordes of shrieking, sticky, grabby children swarming around.

Eeek, Steph, and much fast-healing~ma to Tim, many hairpats to you.