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.: 6.10.2007 

Dear Advair,

When we first met, I was a mess. Albuterol five to seven times a day, blood pressure way up (even for me), still wheezing, still coughing. It was awful. But then you appeared, like a purple-robed Goddess of Lung Capacity, and I was smitten by your beauty (but not your chalky aftertaste) and I learned what it was like to Breathe Normally Even When Exercising.

But when things seem too good to be true, they often are. There is a dark side to you, Advair. A taint. One that has coated my lungs and beckoned more darkness in, calling like to like. Four times now I have been laid low by your mucous-y minions. Four times in eight months. That's like every two months if you do the math. Every 60 days, lo!, like a woman with an usually long menstrual cycle I have had your wrath visited upon me: the snot and the shivers, the coughing so hard I worry that either of my major sphincters will blow.

Damn you Advair, you lavender temptress. Because we both know that even now, as I wheeze these words out onto the keyboard and take yet another round of cough suppressants, I won't stop taking you. I'll come back, again and again, like dog, because for the other 59 days it's worth it to Breathe Like A Normal Person.

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