To Neb or not to Neb . . .

In case you have never met me or you have not spoken to me in the last two years, I have Asthma . . . and it's gotten worse as I have gotten older. To make a two year story fit in one sentence, it was discovered last year that I had some upper esophageal issues (Travis said my upper sphincter didn't sphinct) which led us to a Nissen Fundoplication surgery in August (look it up if you want some lovely photos) which was, in theory, going to help improve my asthma quite a bit . . . which it did . . . for a while . . . A few weekends ago, during our church's women's retreat, I had an "asthma flareup" . . . it was discouraging and frustrating and lead me back to my old friend the nebulizer . . . I got through that weekend, did pretty well for a while, then got to this week . . . you guessed it, more asthma joy . . . and more nebulizer treatments . . .

In case you have never heard of such a thing, I'll offer you a pathetic and "karla-ized" version of what it is with pictorial graphs to illustrate my points . . . it's a few pieces of plastic tubing that hook into a little motor that makes really loud sounds and allows you to breathe in large quantities of asthma medication over a short period of time . . .

It's really quite brilliant in theory and I'm sure someone is making bank off this "wacky" idea they pitched and patented years ago . . . and if I'm being truly honest, it has saved my life and prevented many a hospital visits . . . HOWEVER, after inhaling such large quantities of asthma medication in such a short amount of time, you feel as though you've had 49 cups of coffee (with no creamer), ran a marathon and lost, thought a box of speed was m&ms and ate them all (ok - I don't know how speed comes?!), got punched in the chest and are full of the shakes . . . does that paint a clear enough picture? To which leads me to the title question . . . do I pull out the nebulizer ensuring breath and the ability to make it through the night yet suffer the aforementioned consequences or not?! Obviously, I make the correct intellectual choice and choose to breath . . . yet can't help, after the treatment, feel a rising sense of frustration and the need to type my ramblings ridiculously fast (due to the shakes) and share this portion of my life with you . . .



On the bright side - at least I don't look like this guy . . .




And now, filled with a sense of gratitude that Travis doesn't have to zip my head into a bag to feel better, I'll go back to the nebulizer . . . nebs for dogs?! Who knew?!