Psychic Haemoptysis

I had a restful night. Woke up with a bad cough, but that's nothing new. Used up an entire box of tissues...then I realised they were spotted with blood. Nothing to worry about, just a few drops. But when I got to the toilet, it was a whole different matter. I coughed up a thick wad of blood. Not quite liquid, but not fully solid either. Coffee grounds. Yeah. Now I feel queasy, and my throat itches. I feel a panic attack coming on, now that there is undeniable proof there is something terribly wrong with my physical health. My plans will proceed, but they will have to carry on without me. I have to find out exactly what is wrong with me. My mind blanked out when I realised I was staring at a bloody mass in the sink. It's time. The music may deafen me, but I'll face it anyway. Not that I have a choice. Ugh. I was so stricken I forgot to note the colour of the blood, which may give a clue to its origins. I feel ill all over again. Must...not...puke. If it's not too late by the time I'm done today, maybe I'll drop by my parents' place. That and if I'm given a clean bill of health by a reliable doctor, not some quack who's more interested in his lunch than his patients' welfare.
Oh, Raphael, angel of healing. Guide me as I walk through that madhouse of the ill and infirm.