Wow. Last night was fun. 
My dad and I were sitting in the living room watching the Red Wings when my lungs decided to wage war on my body.
I've been asthmatic since I was eight or nine, but I've always had it under control. I got very good at using my inhaler early on, and I've never had a really bad attack. Sometimes, when I'm sick, it'll affect me more, but I've learned what to avoid (running and/or walking in cold air is the killer).
Well they have this really cute, REALLY FURRY cat. She has always aggravated my allergies and asthma, but I'm on prescription allergy medication now. My dad also installed a HEPA furnace filter two weeks before I arrived and vacuumed and washed every surface in the house (and I mean *every* surface).
It had been great. I was sleeping really well, thanks to bringing my own hypo-allergenic pillows and blankets, and my asthma was only bothering me a very tiny bit.
So we're sitting there watching the game, and my lungs seize up. I don't just mean they started to get tight -- they *seized*. My body, being the bitch it is, tried to make me *cough*, which requires a large inhalation of air first (think about what happens when you cough). That hurt like HELL, and I couldn't breathe anyway, so I lunged for my inhaler and tried to get enough air in to get some medicine. After four pumps (you're allowed two), I'd stopped coughing, but I still couldn't breathe because it felt like a 400-pound man was sitting on my chest while I breathed through a coffee stirrer.
Dad took notice of me gasping like a fish and asked if I was alright. I nodded and went to suck on my inhaler again, and that's when I went dizzy. He looked at me again and said, "Sarah... oh my god... you're getting really pale."
I'm pale anyway, so I waved him off and laid down. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING is more frightening than not being able to get air. I sat there gasping for a few more seconds, and then he got up, grabbed our coats, and said, "No more stubborn girl. We're going to ER."
At that point, I was fine with that idea.
He helped me to the car (fucking ice), and -- apparently -- I lost consciousness a couple of times on the way there and again when we arrived. He said my lips went a bit blue in ER. Cool!
The nice nurse put me on a Ventalin inhaler (it's this thing you breathe through every few seconds... it releases a constant stream of super-duper asthma-killing drugs). Apparently, the first thing I said when I regained consciousness was, "You know it's a Zamenski Christmas when someone ends up in ER."
Dad and I sat there and catnapped for a few hours until the doctors decided I could go home.
We got home at 4:00 AM. Poor Dad. He had a dentist appointment at 7:30 and then has to work most of the day. I got up with him since I heard his shower, and I can't get back to sleep. My head is pounding.
I'm still coughing a bit, and it Really Hurts when I sneeze or breathe deeply, but I'm okay. I've been ordered to take it easy. Feh.
My plans for the day:
*Wash the kitchen floor
*Bake cranberry sugar cookies
*Go to the library
*Make meatloaf and potatoes for dinner
My dad and I were sitting in the living room watching the Red Wings when my lungs decided to wage war on my body.
I've been asthmatic since I was eight or nine, but I've always had it under control. I got very good at using my inhaler early on, and I've never had a really bad attack. Sometimes, when I'm sick, it'll affect me more, but I've learned what to avoid (running and/or walking in cold air is the killer).
Well they have this really cute, REALLY FURRY cat. She has always aggravated my allergies and asthma, but I'm on prescription allergy medication now. My dad also installed a HEPA furnace filter two weeks before I arrived and vacuumed and washed every surface in the house (and I mean *every* surface).
It had been great. I was sleeping really well, thanks to bringing my own hypo-allergenic pillows and blankets, and my asthma was only bothering me a very tiny bit.
So we're sitting there watching the game, and my lungs seize up. I don't just mean they started to get tight -- they *seized*. My body, being the bitch it is, tried to make me *cough*, which requires a large inhalation of air first (think about what happens when you cough). That hurt like HELL, and I couldn't breathe anyway, so I lunged for my inhaler and tried to get enough air in to get some medicine. After four pumps (you're allowed two), I'd stopped coughing, but I still couldn't breathe because it felt like a 400-pound man was sitting on my chest while I breathed through a coffee stirrer.
Dad took notice of me gasping like a fish and asked if I was alright. I nodded and went to suck on my inhaler again, and that's when I went dizzy. He looked at me again and said, "Sarah... oh my god... you're getting really pale."
I'm pale anyway, so I waved him off and laid down. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING is more frightening than not being able to get air. I sat there gasping for a few more seconds, and then he got up, grabbed our coats, and said, "No more stubborn girl. We're going to ER."
At that point, I was fine with that idea.
He helped me to the car (fucking ice), and -- apparently -- I lost consciousness a couple of times on the way there and again when we arrived. He said my lips went a bit blue in ER. Cool!
The nice nurse put me on a Ventalin inhaler (it's this thing you breathe through every few seconds... it releases a constant stream of super-duper asthma-killing drugs). Apparently, the first thing I said when I regained consciousness was, "You know it's a Zamenski Christmas when someone ends up in ER."
Dad and I sat there and catnapped for a few hours until the doctors decided I could go home.
We got home at 4:00 AM. Poor Dad. He had a dentist appointment at 7:30 and then has to work most of the day. I got up with him since I heard his shower, and I can't get back to sleep. My head is pounding.
I'm still coughing a bit, and it Really Hurts when I sneeze or breathe deeply, but I'm okay. I've been ordered to take it easy. Feh.
My plans for the day:
*Wash the kitchen floor
*Bake cranberry sugar cookies
*Go to the library
*Make meatloaf and potatoes for dinner
VIEW 9 of 9 COMMENTS
Get better.
i am sure your dad is just happy that you are ok.
and i hope you feel better real soon.