My internal scheduling is all jacked up today. This would normally be a weekend where we’d each have the kids, but mine blew me off on Saturday afternoon to go to San Francisco with their father. Since I was free, I went up to Junior’s to hang out with him, but he only had one too, as the other one was sick and wanted her mother.

It is so much easier to have one kid than four, I swear.

 

 So we all went to the trapshoot on Sunday after breakfast, and his oldest and I bonded a little while she bopped between me and her grandma and I took pictures of her daddy, and we both cheered him on from the sidelines. It’s really much easier for me to get to know them one on one, and easier for them too, so it was a good day overall. 

The hangup was, on our way down there, I started having an inexplicable asthma attack. I had no idea why, as none of my usual triggers were anywhere near. Junior took a sniff of his daughter at breakfast though, and asked his mom if she’d put perfume on her. Turns out she had, and while I couldn’t smell it, I seem to be very allergic to it. I was fine out in the wind, and even at the restaurant for dinner that afternoon, but it snuck up on me later. We’d dropped off the daughter and gone to play a game with his folks and some family friends, and I found myself getting quieter and quieter and tighter and tighter in the chest. You’d think that I would have had a clue, having just gone through that in the morning, but sometimes the lack of oxygen to my brain really slows me down. Of course, his mom was still wearing the same perfume, and I didn’t add up all of the pieces until we were about done and out the door, when I fell apart. A few inhaler hits later, and I was just slightly better but shaking like a leaf. I couldn’t decide on anything, whether I wanted to just go home and have Junior follow me, or sit tight, or what. He looked at me, wrapped his arms around me, and told me I was staying there and that was OK with his folks (I hadn’t stayed at their place yet.) He fed me a couple of Benadryl, which turned out to be exactly what I needed, since it was an allergic reaction, put me in his pajamas, and curled up with me on the couch while I got over it. I hate to sleep in strange places, but at least I had some contact lens solution in the truck, and the bed smelled like him, so I was comfortable. Well, and I was pretty doped up from the Benadryl.

I told him later that that’s what I do when I’m getting sick; I clam up and get foggy-brained and can’t make my own decisions very well. I may not even realize that there’s something wrong, but if I’m poker-faced when I should be smiling and laughing, something’s up. It’s good that he knows what to look for now, and it’s good that I can count on someone having my back.

I hope I didn’t offend his mom by being allergic to her perfume; I don’t react to all of them. I wear some myself, actually, that doesn’t bother me at all. But walking through the perfume counter at the department stores has always been really uncomfortable for me, and I guess now I know why. It’s not her personally, but I’m not going to be able to be in an enclosed space with her very long if she wears that one, and I know she likes it a lot. I wonder if she’ll like the brand I use, that I’m not allergic to, and if I can get her some of that?

 

 But anyway, this was by far the worst asthma attack I’ve ever had that wasn’t brought on by a lot of exercise, and now I know what one feels like when it doesn’t start with coughing. I need to update my inhalers, but insurance tangles are going to make that difficult too. I’m just lucky someone was there to recognize that something was going on, and to take care of me. Thank you, baby.