So, I drive up to Newport News today, and traffic is pretty clear (surprisingly enough) so I end up arriving about 40 minutes early. You know how it goes, if I don't plan for traffic, there will be tons and I'll be late. I went over to the bookstore and picked up Twilight, which everyone has been raving about recently, and another trashy romance novel, then wandered over to my doctor's office.
I should have showed up slightly earlier, as it turned out. One of his patients had gotten confused as to when his appointment was (at 11:00am) and I could have taken his and let him come in late and take mine. Ah well.
Got called back in fairly quickly (only 5 minutes past when my appointment was scheduled) and his assistant weighed me in. 168, according to their scale. Have I mentioned how much I love their scale? My doctor came in and flipped through my charts. Last year, on his scale, I weighed 227. That's a ~60 pound loss in about a year's time, although I didn't actually start my eating plan until January.
He went over my most recently blood work with me, and compared it to last year. Cholesterol is good, white blood cell count is great, A1C is great. My breathing test gave me the lung capacity of 120% normal.
"Well," he said, looking over my charts, "I don't see any reason why you should remain on those long-acting control drugs any longer."
"You're not asthmatic anymore. There's nothing wrong with your lungs. I'll give you a sample-sized albuterol inhaler for the next two weeks, just in case, but I don't think you'll need it. If you're using it more than 2-3 times a day in two weeks, call me and we'll rethink this, but it's really just a precaution at this point."
I think I surprised him when I burst into tears.
This is, honestly, the best news I have had in years.