Hack. Wheeze. Cough.
After being fed-up of my almost-week long cold (that I so luckily got from my husband Jason and passed on to our son Mylo) I went to the Brooklyn Heights after-hours clinic on Sunday. The doctor I saw listened to my chest and told me I had an upper-respiratory infection. I told him I was breastfeeding and he prescribed me medication accordingly. An antibiotic and a steroid. I never really questioned him because a) he’s a doctor and knows better than me and b) I was willing to sniff glue if that’s what would make me feel better.
But it’s been 2 1/2 days since I have been on the meds and while my voice has cleared up, my cough certainly hasn’t. But I am so sick of hacking up a lung while I am mid-sentence that I went back to the doc’s office again this morning…
So $60 later (co-pays are a pricey $30 for each visit), the doctor I saw today told me I had nothing more than a common cold and that he never would have put me on an antibiotic. Seriously, WTF?