Oh hey, so you know that mysterious coughing/wheezing illness Clark had on Saturday?
It was asthma. (I know several of you are probably saying duh, Erin, that's what asthma IS in your head, but I honestly had no clue.)
I took Clark yesterday to follow up with the pediatrician after the incident on Saturday, thinking his lungs sounded all better but that maybe he was having some allergy symptoms and we should probably talk about it. TALK about it. I thought that's what we were doing at that appointment. Instead, she totally checked him out, and announced that without a doubt, he has asthma. His lungs that I thought sounded "all better"? They apparently sound all wrong.
I should have seen this coming. He has this "weird cough thing" that he gets sometimes, that I have always raised an eyebrow at but never gotten too worked up over. Uh, yeah.
Weird cough thing = asthma = mom fail.
I was sent home with medicine and equipment and various apparatus. They started us off with EIGHT (8!) breathing treatments per day, as well as oral steroids. Figuring it all out and making Clark comply? It's been way way WAY harder than potty training.
Many many prayers, bribes, and viewings of Jessi and Ian's videos later-- he will finally do his "dinosaur medicine" breathing treatments. Without clawing me. Or biting me. Or throwing the nebulizer machine. And he asks for only two things in exchange for his cooperation: 1) Lindt Lindor truffles 2) My Neighbor Totoro turned up as loud as it will go.
I told you he has good taste. I think I would ask for the very same things.
This afternoon, Clark and Alice really interacted well for maybe the first time ever. He looked into her face and said, 'let's laugh together Alice' and asked me to tickle him. So I did, and they both laughed and laughed. But then? Clark started coughing and choking and wheezing and gasping for air. He really couldn't breathe at all. I was in a total panic. I ran towards all of the new medication we have and realized I don't even know what is what yet, or what I should do. And as I was pawing around like a bumbling idiot in an attempt to open the box with the fast-acting inhaler inside he finally caught his breath and smiled at me.
Oh, sweet boy.
I tend to be kind of a skeptic about, uh, everything, and it is hard to let go and accept that he really does have asthma, that he needs all of this stuff, these treatments to just be healthy. I am working on it. And I am so very thankful that if this is what it is-- praise God! It is just asthma. It isn't fatal. We can totally handle asthma. Praise God.