PFT actually stands for Pulmonary Function Test. I had one of those today. I went in not really know what to expect, just that they would be monitoring my breathing. I had no idea what a traumatic experience it would be! They put me in a little glass box with just a chair and a machine that you blow air into. The mouthpiece was exactly like one you’d use while scuba diving. Then, they plug your nose and make you take a lot of normal breaths, then a lot of deep breaths, then empty out your lungs, etc. Just lots of different types of breathing.

I kept watching the therapist’s face as she was looking at my results and it was sort of a grimace. Like this:

And I thought “Well, that can’t be good”.

The scary part was one particular test in the middle of my session. First, I had to breath normal – as normal as I could with my nose plugged and breathing through a scuba mouthpiece, by the way. Then all of a sudden, the therapist would say “Ok, let all the air out! Go, go, go, a little longer, keep going, let it all out, a little longer, a little longer…. OK!” and when you were completely out of air, they would block the mouthpiece and you would have NO AIR AT ALL. Just when you want to take the biggest breath of your life, you can’t! I had to sit like that for a couple seconds, but it seemed like an eternity. I started getting totally panicked because I was sitting in this little box, with no air – I just couldn’t do it! I pulled away from the machine and completely ruined the test. So we had to start over.

Then second time wasn’t much better. The third time, she got frustrated with me because I wasn’t breathing NORMAL in the beginning of the test. HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO BREATHE NORMAL, KNOWING FULL WELL THAT IN A FEW SECONDS I WILL BE COMPLETELY WITHOUT AIR?? My heart was racing and my hands were sweaty and it just made me so nervous and uncomfortable. Finally, the fourth time I guess I did it well enough that I didn’t have to start over. PHEW! But seriously, so scary. I mean, I knew she wouldn’t kill me or anything, but in the moment it was so upsetting.

I began hating the therapist. I hated her face and the way she talked – all because she was the poor lady adminstering the test. Once it was over, I had no ill feelings toward her at all. She was actually quite nice. But while it was happening I wanted to pull her scraggly brown hair out.

Diagnosis: (Get ready for this shocker)