even living isn't for pansies

Does anyone know how to stop a constant cough? Can you scare it away like hiccups?

I am trying to get rid of a bronchial infection and my antibiotics are now gone. The coughing is necessary to clear the crud out of my lungs, I understand this; what I don't understand is why I have to cough for several hours straight, or why cough medicine doesn't work for more than 30 minutes.

I remember when I was half my age and had bronchitis, I endured it for six weeks BEFORE I went to the doctor, and I walked 4 miles through snow every day (it was February) and managed to work and go to classes. Now if I can crawl up out of bed after a few days WITH medication, I consider it a victory.

appropriate icon is appropriate

Or maybe not. I don't give a shit. It's appropriate for me.

Repost this in your LJ if you know someone who has, had, or has been affected by cancer. (I'm not going to include the part about the percentage of people who won't. I don't want to push you into doing this yourself; some people aren't comfortable with these things but still care just as much as those of us who post.)

When I was six years old, my paternal grandfather died at the age of 51 from cancer, after a long and painful illness.

When I was in my 20s, my dad's cousin died at age 42 of skin cancer - again, after a long, difficult illness.

In 1999, my maternal grandfather died at the age of 76 partly from prostate cancer; he'd gone through two remissions in twenty years, and decided he didn't want to undergo the chemo for the third time. (He was also weakened from an aneurysm that put him in a nursing home.)

Last June, my mother died at the age of 57 of complications from an blood infection immediately following a stem cell transplant for bone marrow. She spent months undergoing weekly blood and platelet transfusions and daily chemo treatments sometimes, despite small, hard-to-find veins, and rarely let on how much pain she was really in. I remember one time near the end, while we were visiting in the hospital, her nurse asked "What's your pain level today, do you think?" (on the scale of 1-10) and she casually answered, "Oh, probably about a 7." Just like it was nothing. I'm pretty sure I couldn't be that badass.

Late last year, a friend who I won't identify because I don't know if she'd want me to, said she'd been diagnosed with a form of breast cancer at the age of 30. It was removed and she's in remission, but expects it will likely make a reappearance, possibly resulting in as much as a double masectomy. It is my hope NOT to add her to the above roster at any point, thank you much.