Word on Health was alarmed to learn that many asthma patients chose to withhold their rescue medication rather than suffer side effects of the commonly prescribed drug, albuterol.  According to a newly published Consensus Statement,  delayed or reduced use of albuterol can contribute to sub-optimal disease control and increased health care costs.

The side effects in question aren’t life-threatening; they include jitteriness, pounding heartbeat, fast pulse, and hyperstimulation.  “Bothersome” might better describe the side effects, but even so, patients are prepared to jeopardize their health just to avoid them.

Is there a solution?  “Yes”, said the majority of US asthma specialists surveyed.  There are other rescue drugs, such as levalbuterol, that are just as effective but don’t cause these annoying side effects.

But, and there’s always a but, not all doctors can prescribe this drug due to formulary restrictions, or patients can’t afford it due to cost-disincentives such as higher co-pays.

The Consensus Statement authors suggest that levalbuterol should be available as an alternate treatment for albuterol-intolerant patients.

An accompanying editorial encourages you to agree or disagree with their conclusions.

So go on, have your say!

It arrived today. Shiny and lime green with a removable “pot” and attached splash guard. It sits now in our living room as a decoration, a “toy” to get acquainted with until the real use becomes a bit more viable. What is it? A potty.

Nora is 25 months now and knows when she “has a poop.” She’s still not really ready to potty train; she’d much rather sit and play in a sopping wet diaper than go into another room to change it; sometimes it takes my smelling her poop before she announces she needs a new diaper. But I’m gearing up for this next step. I’m ready to stop changing diapers. So if her potty is her best friend in six weeks when spring break arrives, if she’s progressed a bit in her disgust with her own soiled diapers, maybe I’ll embark on that next parenting challenge.

Something else green arrived today too. I didn’t order it from Amazon and I surely am not welcoming it into our living room. This time I speak of snot – or “boogies” as Nora calls them. They descended on me two days ago and now they are pouring out of poor Nora’s nose.

The arrival of snot sends me into panic mode. It is never “just a cold” with Nora. I watch the snot drip out of her nose and wonder when the vomiting will begin, when the coughing will start. I dread the days ahead that might mean crying, clinging, round-the-clock albuterol, an interruption to our finally-returned-to-normal sleeping. I pray to the pulmicort gods that her lungs are strengthened enough to avoid that this time. I gear up for the fight.

Please let this snot be wimpy.

The state of California has agreed to settle a price inflation lawsuit with Schering-Plough Corporation for $21.3 million.  California alleged in its lawsuit that Schering-Plough inflated the average wholesale price it reported for the drug Albuterol to California.  As a result, California alleged its Medi-Cal program over paid Schering-Plough millions in pharmacy reimbursements.  The overpayments were brought to the attention of the state of California by a whistleblower.

FULL STORY

I’m not sure if it’s general knowledge or not, but somehow I knew a while back that whatever Nora’s height was at Friday’s two year well-check, doubling it would give us a good estimate of her final adult height. So when she measured 29.5 inches at 18 months I began to seriously worry that she wouldn’t grow much past 5′, Yes, I know there are many many worse things, but I couldn’t help but wonder as this appointment approached whether she would have grown “enough.” On top of the short measuring at 18 months, I’ve also read in multiple places that pulmicort has the potential long-term side effect of stunting growth. Great, I thought. As if she needed another obstacle in her way to a height that wouldn’t cost her bundles in hemmed pants for the rest of her life. The great news is that she grew! Three whole inches in six months! So that means that she’ll be about 5′ 5″ (she’s 32.5″ now).

The real concern on Friday was obviously not really Nora’s height, but the progress her lungs have made from the last flare-up that was a week and a half old by the appointment. We had tapered down to every twelve hour albuterol treatments (and kept the pulmicort at its usual morning and evening levels as well). The doctor said Nora’s lungs sounded great. So we are back to just pulmicort and starting the countdown clock to the next flare-up. This time it was six weeks between episodes. Hopefully it can be even longer this time.

It surely skipped a generation. But when Nora is hyped up on albuterol there is nothing that gives her greater joy than helping clean.

Watch it here:

Nora’s cleaning from sarah on Vimeo.

And what you can barely hear her say is: “I’m getting it all clean.” and “I’m vacuuming, Mama.”

And then she asked to hang up her coat.

A few days ago I was able to look at Nora’s getting sick again with some sarcasm and humor. Now that has pretty much disappeared and I feel just frustrated, tired and sorry. Sorry for Nora who has to suffer through all this.

The asthma diagnosis was a relief initially. We had six weeks of health where Nora turned into quite an energetic toddler. Then we had an exhausting vacation, a trying homecoming and a week returning to the routine punctuated with more sickness.

Nora coughs. And coughs. And coughs. Then she vomits. Or she spits out wads of mucous. She won’t eat. She drinks milk and water. We try to give her treats – juice, pudding. But she just wants some goldfish and some more milk or water.

Starting on Wednesday Nora was on every-four-hour albuterol treatments, twice a day pulmicort, an antibiotic and she was given a dose of prednisone at the doctor Wednesday morning. Thankfully she loves doing her mask (what we call the nebulizer). When we had to do it in the middle of the night she complied, sucked her thumb and mostly slept through it.

What she hates is the oral medication. We can barely get her to take the sweet tasting motrin (if only they made it in goldfish flavor). The coconut flavor antibiotic is a struggle. And forget the prednisone that they perscribed for her yesterday. That made her vomit the complete contents of her stomach. When I called today to ask if they could give it to her as a shot, they said she was too young for that. That I should stick it in something sweet and hope she eats it. We tried pudding. She wanted no part of it.

Ken and I both have the cold that started all this for Nora. We are tired from the around the clock care that reminds me of when I was breastfeeding through the night. We just want her to be better. We don’t want to hear her moan from fever or cry from the pain of coughing. Every time I put the mask on her I am reminded at how permanent this problem really is. We can’t make it go away. And the struggle will be learning how to live with it – how to help her avoid flare-ups like this. I asked my mom if I was as bad as this. She said she didn’t really remember, but she could recall some similarities.

Nora is a trooper. She isn’t nearly as sick as the last few times we dealt with this. Yesterday she spent about an hour reading EVERY book on her shelf to herself. Ken took a video since he was so amazed. Maybe there’s a correlation between asthma and love of books. As I struggled to get other people’s children to read 9 pages of To Kill a Mockingbird, my own child sat at home devouring her literature. Something to smile about in all this sickness.

Watch the video here:

Nora reads ALL her books from sarah on Vimeo.

This post was originally published on MySpace back on January 21st, 2009.  I had just started blogging and had just started to experience what life was like as a new father.  I perused some of my old stuff the other day and came across this which brought back alot of emotions and showed to me how far I’ve come in just less than a year.  It’s a little wordy but I wanted to share it with all of you…

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As many of you know who have read my blogs, I deal with a lot of irrational fears and “what if” scenarios in my mind being a new father.  Unfortunately, a scenario rocked our world yesterday… and fortunately it didn’t wind up with us in the emergency room or worse.  It’s more than a story about irrational fears though… it’s a story about so much more…..

Story contracted RSV (Respiratory Syncytial Virus, a virus that can cause colds and coughs in adults but can produce severe pulmonary diseases like bronchitis and pneumonia in young children) about a week ago and it has required Mindy and I to balance work and taking care of her.  She hasn’t been to day care all this week as we’ve been trying to get her back on a healthy track where she’s not so sad all the time…..

She coughs like she’s been smoking for 20 years and her nose runs like Niagara Falls.  This requires Mindy and I go get up several times in the night to sooth her because she coughs so hard and rough it wakes her up.

It’s moments like these where you’re really challenged.  You’re challenged because you didn’t know it was going to be like this.  When you realize you’re going to be a parent, it is a joyous moment.  There’s lots of crying and hugs and phone calls to loved ones letting them know the good news.  People will tell you “being a parent is hard work” and “get all your sleep now”, etc.  All I could picture was her playing and laughing and saying “I love you daddy”.  What no one can clearly relay to you is the moments where you feel like you can’t take it anymore.  Times when you think something else can’t possible go wrong and it does.  Times where you want to just scream and throw your hands in the air and say “I give up!”

Sunday in particular was rough for me because we were both dealing with minimal sleep and I honestly hadn’t gotten a moment to myself (other than my job… not the kind of “me” time I want) in several weeks.  Story had been up and down all night and hadn’t taken a nap worth anything all day and most of her actions involved her whining and crying.  Mindy had allowed me to try and take a nap to catch up on some sleep but I couldn’t sleep past 20 or 30 minutes because of her crying.  Mindy suggested we take a drive with Story to see if the car would lull her to sleep which usually happens on normal circumstances.  On the drive, I broke down and cried and just felt like a limp noodle.  I never realized it was going to be THIS HARD.  I had always imagined myself being a great father and at this moment I felt so vulnerable.  Mindy assured me I was a great father and this happens to everyone.  She has had her moments where I picked her up from what felt like the point of no return.  It was my time to break down I guess.  I felt guilty, I felt useless, I felt hopeless… I was just so sad. ….

Once we got back to the house, Mindy suggested I leave the house for a little while so I could have some time to myself.  I decided to go to this park by our house and walk around a bit.  On the way to the park I was crying out to God to take away my pain, guilt, uselessness, etc.  “Where are you?” I would say.  “I thought you’re supposed to help me through this.”  I got out of the car once I made it to the park and walked around some baseball fields.  It felt good to have the fresh air blow on my face.  The baseball fields added some comfort as well because it reminded me of my childhood and how old I had gotten.  I decided to sit down in the grass for a little bit and pray.  I prayed hard.  I prayed as I watched the beautiful sunset for God to send me a sign that he was really here and he heard me and that everything was going to be okay.  There was nothing.  No cross in the sky, no flaming bush, no ghostly figure of Jesus on the baseball field wanting me to play catch with him… nothing.  I got up and walked to the car feeling better yet not completely healed from my frustration at the feeling of God’s absence in my life…..

The next day (Monday) I took off work to stay home with Story while she got over her sickness.  Mindy and I decided we would split Tuesday.  I would go to work in the morning and she would go in the afternoon.  Mindy called me while I was at work to let me know she thought Story was wheezing a little bit, something the doctor had told us to watch for.  If she did start to wheeze then we were supposed to set up another appointment.  I got the duty of taking her to the appointment.

After the doctor examined Story she decided to prescribe her some Albuterol.  This is basically inhaler medicine.  You see asthmatics taking it a lot.  Since Story is only 6 months old, she has to take the liquid brand.  The prescription came with a warning from her doctor: “Do not give Story over the allotted amount that I tell you… any more than that and it can be potentially harmful.”  She even went through the trouble of showing me on a small syringe and giving it to me.  The amount we were supposed to give Story was 1.5 CC’s.

I dropped the prescription off at CVS Pharmacy by our house and Mindy picked it up on the way home from work.  The doctor had told me this medication was probably going to make Story a little hyper so it was best for it to work a little bit before putting her to bed so we decided to give it to her then.

I was holding Story in my lap and Mindy came out of the kitchen with a different syringe than the one the doctor had given me.  We have about 20 syringes from different medicines we’ve accumulated and this was one of them.  Mindy had referred to what the prescription on the bottle told her to take from it.  Once she got closer to me and at about two seconds before she stuck the syringe in Story’s mouth I proclaimed that amount just didn’t look like what the doctor had told me to give Story.  I told Mindy to double check the prescription.  On the bottle the pharmacy had given us it said “1.5 TEASPOONS”!  We called to confirm with the doctor what she had told me was correct, that she was to receive 1.5 CC’s… not 1.5 TEASPOONS… over FIVE times the required amount of this “potentially harmful” drug if taken in excess.  The pharmacy had righteously screwed the pooch on this one.  One call to the Pharmacy manager sent enough chills through his body to make him question if he would still be employed tomorrow.

Only after a good night’s sleep on the whole situation does the entire picture really come in to focus.  It has brought out a lot of “What if’s”. What if the doctor hadn’t taken the time to show me on a syringe how much to give Story.  What if I wasn’t paying attention (which I have a hard time doing sometimes) while she was showing me?  What if I wasn’t holding Story when Mindy came around with the syringe that could potentially overdose our child?  What if the unthinkable had happened?  We won’t even go there.

The unbelievable aspect of it was that we were two seconds away from potentially life threatening circumstances and if everything hadn’t been lined up specifically the way it had happened… we would be in the emergency room right now.  We probably wouldn’t even know why it happened before it was too late.  The repercussions of such an event would have trickled throughout so many lives it is incomprehensible.

Yet several days ago… I prayed for a sign.  I prayed for God to show me His is working in my life and He is there.  I wanted a cross in the sky or a flaming bush.  He gave me the life of my baby girl.  I don’t believe that this could have happened by circumstance because there are so many other more believable circumstances that would have led to Story taking a potentially disastrous amount of Albuterol.  God was showing me He has control.  He wasn’t going to show me with what I believed I needed.  You see… He’s running the show and He knows what I need for a wake up call.

It is so hard for me to give up the reins to my life and believe that God’s ultimate plan for me and my family is a better one than I have.  I hate to say that God has been the literal backseat driver in my life.  I am not the Christian I want to be because it continually involves trusting Him… who I cannot see.  Despite not being able to “see” God does not mean that my eyes are not more open.  Slowly but surely I can clearly see Him working in my life.  Yesterday’s Albuterol incident are clear examples of Him saying, “Chris I am not putting a cross in the sky!  That’s so Old Testement!  I am very much present in your life… you just need to know where to look!”  After yesterday… He is sitting in the passenger seat next to me.

Most people reading this believe in “someone out there”.  Most people’s perception of Him is a distant god who isn’t much of a factor or who “probably doesn’t care about me”.  This couldn’t be further from the truth.  He probably doesn’t seem close because we probably haven’t taken the time to get to know Him or we believe he doesn’t care because we haven’t reached out to Him and had the patience to find out what can happen.  Take some time to get to know this God guy… you just might like what you see… or what you can’t “see”.

On a separate note… please take the time to make sure your prescriptions are filled correctly.  Never ever just assume that the pharmacy has filled it correctly…..

Well, the fever is gone, but the deep persistent cough and mild fatigue remains after almost two weeks. I managed to go into the office for about 6 or 7 hours on Monday, but hacked for most of the time and grew more tired as the afternoon wore on.

This is the longest I’ve gone with minimal human contact. I can’t talk much due to the sore throat, so the days have been very quiet as well.

I checked-in with the nurse at the surgeon’s office on Monday, and finally spoke with Dr. Salem this morning. With my symptoms she didn’t think it advisable to risk any complications during or after the surgery, so she canceled the procedure for tomorrow and suggested I call my primary doctor to find out what else could be done.

So I left a message for Dr. Lin, and he called back this afternoon. He reviewed my file and test results and said it was confirmed that I have H1N1. Considering that my fever is gone the Tamiflu worked for that, but  he said it’s possible – based on what they’re seeing in other patients with H1N1 – that it’s morphed from a virus to a bacterial lung infection. So he started me on two inhalers – albuterol and a steroid – and Hydromet cough syrup.

If I’m not better by Friday, then I’m to call him. Not sure why – what he’d do next – but hopefully it won’t be necessary for me to call.

So I’ve written a bit on here about two things: asthma and cycling.  My body apparently doesn’t plan to stop having asthma.  But I don’t plan to stop cycling, either, so I think we’re in the process of reaching a happy medium (can’t we all just get along?).  A friend of mine was asking me about cycling and asthma the other day, so I’ve decided to write this post in the hopes of sharing what I know about exercise and asthma and encouraging those with asthma to not put away their bicycles (or running shoes, walking poles, skis, or whatever strikes your fancy).

But first.  YE OLDE OFFICIAL DISCLAIMER: I am not a doctor (though I am thinking about nursing school, but that’s a whole other story).  I don’t try to play a doctor on the Internet.  This post is intended to share my POV when it comes to dealing with asthma and exercise.  If you think or know you have asthma, first things first–SEE YOUR DOCTOR.  Asthma can be treated, but it is also nothing to mess with.  And besides, I know you wouldn’t just blindly trust the words of a stranger on the Internet, now would you.

OKAY.

First off–what does asthma feel like?  Many people describe it as a “fish trying to breathe out of water” feeling.  Umm…yeah.  I’m not a fish, but I think I can understand the comparison.  For me, I’d describe an asthma attack as a feeling of never getting enough air.  No matter how much air I take in, it’s not enough.  My chest feels tight and dry.  My lungs hurt.  I cough. I sometimes wheeze.  It’s like when you’re trying to blow up a balloon that’s been sitting around for awhile and the rubber kind of sticks together and doesn’t fully inflate when you blow air into it.  It’s like my lungs do not fully inflate with air.  When I’m cycling and have asthma, I also feel fatigued and like I can’t ride to the speed and distance that I’m used to.  That said, everyone’s different.  And so here are my tips:

1.) IF YOU SUSPECT OR KNOW YOU HAVE ASTHMA, SEE A DOCTOR REGULARLY. Maybe this one’s obvious, but don’t even think about those over-the-counter medications.  People have died from trying to self-treat asthmatic symptoms.  I take a preventitive medication (Azmacort) and a rescue inhaler before rides (Albuterol).  You may also have to try various meds until you find one that works best for you.  I used to take Advair.  Didn’t like it.  Had a terrible sore throat all the time.  I went back to Azmacort and that works swell.

2.) CARRY YOUR RESCUE INHALER AT ALL TIMES.  Yes, even if you take the preventative medications (like Azmacort), you still need to carry your rescue inhaler with you, especially when you’re out exercising.  I slip mine in the back pocket of my cycling jersey (see, there IS a reason why you need one!).  Before my cycling days I’d carry it in my sports bra (too much information?).  Find a place for it and don’t forget it.

3.) INVEST IN A PEAK FLOW METER AND SPACER.  The Peak Flow meter is used to measure how well air flows out of your lungs.  Keeping track of your “peak flows” can indicate if your lungs are worsening and tip you off to impending asthma attacks.  Use a spacer with your rescue inhaler.  You won’t even feel the medication going into your lungs, but the medication works SO MUCH BETTER with a spacer than with the inhaler alone.  I’ve found you can buy both of these items online at amazon.com or from medical supply stores.

4.) KEEP TRACK OF YOUR INHALATIONS AS YOU USE YOUR MEDICATIONS.  This is HUGE.  You don’t want to be caught out on a ride with an empty inhaler.  It’s really impossible to tell how much medication is left, too, without keeping track of how many puffs you use.  I found an amazing iPhone application called “Inhaler Tracker”.  I think it was $1.99 or $.99.  It allows you to catalogue various medications and “tap” the screen to decrease the medication and keep track of how many puffs you have left in your inhalers.  Well worth the money.  (But of course, pen and paper works just fine, too).

5.) DO AN ADEQUATE WARM UP AND COOL DOWN.  I’ve found that if I do warm up stretches, followed by a slow ride at a low gear, I’m less likely to have an asthma attack out on my ride.  I’ve found that when I jump on my bike and get riding right away, I get asthma and then have to call the whole thing off.  So I do my slow warm up, usually starting out on 2 or 3, and usually increase one gear per mile.  I work up to 5 or 6 (my average).  When I’m nearing the end of my ride, I reverse the order, going down a gear each mile and aim to ride the last 2 miles in 3-4.

6.) KEEP A STEADY PACE.  Okay.  We can’t all be Lance Armstrong.  For me, cycling is about the pure joy of the experience, but sometimes it gets the best of me and I just want to go as fast as possible!  That’s when I run into trouble with my asthma.  In addition to my warm up period, I try to find a pace and stick with it.  This is essential not only for flat stretches, but also for climbs.  ESPECIALLY for climbs.  Sometimes this means I shift down a gear.  But it’s better than having a full blown attack on the trail.

7.) IF YOU FEEL SYMPTOMATIC, STOP.   In spite of my best efforts to control my asthma, there are some days when I’m riding that I’ll develop symptoms.  I slow my pace or stop.  I may have to use my rescue inhaler again.  But I’ve learned that I cannot try to “push through” asthma symptoms.  You really can’t push yourself to endure asthma; it’s unrealistic and dangerous.  Listen to your body.

8.)TREAT THE CAUSE, NOT JUST THE SYMPTOMS.  Learn what triggers your asthma, which is sometimes easier said than done.  I’ve learned through careful observation that allergens (dust, mold, pollen, pollution, practically everything) trigger hay fever, which in turns triggers asthma when I’m out on my rides.  I’ve also become aware of what types of weather trigger my symptoms.  Extreme heat or cold are no good.  Wind is tough because of the allergens in the air.  I take allergy medications before my rides to decrease the chances of getting allergen-induced asthma.

9.) LISTEN TO YOUR LUNGS.  There are just some days that your body won’t cooperate.  That Big Green Monster Called Asthma parks his ass in your lungs and refuses to budge (I kind of imagine asthma to look like that green globby creature from that commercial).  On those days, I accept that I cannot ride (even though I love it) and do something like yoga instead.

10.) DON’T EXERCISE WHEN YOU’RE SICK.  I’ve read that if a cold is “above your neck”, you can still exercise.  However, I’ve found that when I’m sick with a cold, no matter where the cold “is”, I can’t exercise because I’ll get asthma.  Take it easy.  Rest your body and get better.

11.) DON’T LET ASTHMA HOLD YOU BACK.  I’ve had asthma my whole life.  I’ve been told many times that I should not cycle, dance, run, or do anything else that might trigger an attack.  But luckily I found a good doctor who subscribes to my idea that exercise with asthma is better than  no exercise at all.  I cannot live a sedentary lifestyle.  The key is to learn your triggers, manage your asthma, and live.  You cannot get rid of asthma, but you can certainly learn to live with it.

Asthma and Medications for Children and Teens and When They are at College or University.

This morning, I was abruptly awakened at 4:00am by my husband poking me in the back.  He said, “what should we do?”  I had no idea what he was talking about, but apparently, our 3 year old was coughing.  This wouldn’t be so big of a problem except that both girls sleep in the same room.  If Cam gets coughing, her asthma won’t let her stop, and it goes on, and on, and on… He was afraid she would wake Aves with the coughing.  As he was explaining this to me, (at 4am, remember), Averie made a little crying noise.  So, he sighed and got out of bed to go rock her.  Cam’s coughing kept up, so I gave her some cough medicine powder.  It didn’t help.  So, I took her into the bathroom and ran a hot steamy shower.  It worked some.  She laid back in bed, but Averie was still awake.  So, I rocked her.  After a while, I laid her back in bed and got Cam a spoonful of honey.  It also helped, but not a lot.  I had to rock Aves more, she was too awake to fall back asleep.  So, as I was rocking, Cam asked for a drink.  Up we got to fetch that.  Then, Aves was ready to sleep, (she gets really crabby, stretchy when she’s ready to lay down).  So, I put her in her crib and laid down with Cam.  I showed her how to cover her face when she’s coughing, breathe the warm air and relax.  Still didn’t work.  So, we got up and went to the living room for an albuterol treatment.  She got to read a book while she was doing the treatment.  It helped relax her chest enough that the coughing subsided.  But, I didn’t want to risk it starting up again, thus beginning my long rocking process over, so I let her lay on the couch to sleep.  I promised I would stay right with her.  So, here I sit, drinking AWESOME starbucks coffee, (not from you, Anna, I needed caffeine this morning), and surfing the web.  I would sure love to take a shower, but that would entail leaving my little girl, breaking my promise.  I can think of many worse ways to start my morning than with my two, favorite sweeties.

With all the attacks Satan’s been sending our way lately, I can’t help but think that he’s trying again.  This is the second Sunday morning that I’ve been awake in the middle of the night.  But, guess what, Devil?  Troy hates losing sleep, but he’s sound asleep right now.  And…I’m a morning person!  Ha HA!!!

…Michael Jackson died!

Yes, I am well aware.

It has been almost a month since the pop singer passed away, but we still haven’t stopped hearing about it. I understand that it’s a big tragedy to a lot of people, especially his family,

but when is enough enough? I can’t hardly turn on the TV anymore without someone talking about the latest rumors, who sired (I’ve always wanted to use the word “sired”) his children, or how many tons of anesthetics were found in his body. It is really very sad, but why can’t we let the man rest in peace?

I may be trying to take a bit of the spotlight away from him, but if I ever die, I am begging you, please don’t make a big deal about it. Just a simple, “Well, that sucks” will do just fine for me. In fact, the less attention you pay to it, the happier I’ll be. It’s a natural part of human existence and nothing in modern science can change that fact. The way I figure it, I won’t be wasting any more oxygen, and therefore, doing my part to help the environment. Not to mention that my rotten, decaying corpse will be fertilizing the earth and pushing up daisies. You’re welcome.

It turns out I was especially worried about Mister Finn’s cough for a reason. {How does this parental “intuition” thing work?? What does it mean? How do I keep myself from having false-alarm freak-outs, now that I’m apparently developing a track record of sensing correctly when something is wrong with my baby?}

On Wednesday morning the cough was worse, and about 10 minutes after Wifey left for work I heard him wheezing. He also seemed to be having chest retractions. So I threw some diapers and my wallet in a bag and took him to the emergency room at the hospital where he was born and spent his third trimester. It was terrifying hearing his wheezing from the back seat. Tears were streaming down my face by the time we got to the ER. I called Wifey at work and she took the bus up the hill right away.

The kind yet condescending (or maybe kindly condescending?) pediatrician ordered chest x-rays, albuterol breathing treatments, and steroids to be given orally, which were promptly thrown up all over me. His lungs looked and sounded clear, but because they didn’t know if he was going to get better or worse, the pediatrician wanted him to stay overnight for observation.

We were treated really well, and the whole ER experience was not really too bad until a guy next door arrived thrashing and yelling, strung out on something. Apparently in hospital-speak “code orange” means “uncooperative guest; need police.” My anxiety peaked right around then. It was terrifying overhearing what was going on on the other side of the wall, and I really wanted to grab my baby and run out the door.

Upstairs in the pediatric unit,  A. did great all night (with breathing treatments every 2-3 hours from a Respiratory Therapist) and responded well to the albuterol, which further signaled that this isn’t an infection (other than the common cold, or some strain of it). We took turns sleeping in the crib with him– a sight no one batted an eye at.

The diagnosis was simply a virus that triggered a reflex in A.’s baby lungs to tighten– a very common reflex in babies (?). It was basically an asthma attack, but one that is specific to a virus, not an ongoing condition.

The whole thing was very surreal, like we couldn’t really believe this was happening. All the same sounds and smells and food as our big hospital adventure last year. The lasagna tasted the same. The feeling when the ladies came in to check the trash was the same.

We were discharged Thursday morning with treatments to continue giving A. at home, and we got home around 1pm. It seemed that as soon as we left the hospital he was coughing more and working harder to breathe. It continued after we were home for an hour and a half, so we called the the pediatrician’s office. The nurse there said if he was still having symptoms of difficulty breathing we should take him back to the hospital.

So, back to the ER. (This too felt like a repeat of last year, when I was discharged only to be readmitted two days later when my c-section incision opened.) After more exams by more nurses and doctors, the pediatrician examined him and said that he is fine!  He was still having some difficulty breathing purely because he’s still getting over the virus. The pediatrician also said that there is a wide spectrum of respiratory issues in babies, and A.’s episode was mild. The pediatrician isn’t worried about him at all.

We assumed that this whole ordeal was related to his prematurity, but apparently it isn’t (!?!) and this happens to full-term babies often. They said the best test indicating that A.’s lungs are “good to go” (with no lasting effects of prematurity) is the fact that he didn’t get a single infection –viral or bacterial– his entire first year.

For 2 days we did albuterol treatments via inhaler (which are completely painless, yet totally awful, with him screaming and kicking and it feels like we’re torturing him) and steroids. He hasn’t really been acting that sick; still crawling and laughing and “dancing” to his music.

I managed to write a rather cheery post about all of this on Mister Finn’s blog, for all of his friends and family to read, to let them know he is OK. (I cut and pasted some of that post into this one, which may be why the mood here is rather choppy). I suppose I also managed to be strong through the whole thing. But I’m kind of on the verge of falling apart inside. The whole thing was really scary, and seems to have left a hole in my heart. I thought about Maddie pretty much the entire time all of this was happening, obsessively, repeatedly remembering the details of her last hours.

When I’m living our beautifully chaotic every-day life, I thankfully take it for granted. When we’re thrust for 28 hours into a nightmare, I am reminded that I have no right to take our life for granted. I read people’s blogs –some utterly unimaginably devastating, some seemingly giddy with perfection– and am keenly aware that fankly, there are lives to be lived that are heavenly, and those that are hellish. Who/what puts people on either side of that line?–I have no fucking clue.  I do believe that it’s not black or white; of course there is some good in every bad story and vice versa. But really, people and their luck seem to fall on one side or the other, for no apparent reason. I don’t believe in people “deserving” the things that happen to them. It just happens, and one day you’re in heaven and the next you’re in hell. In the ER, in the hospital overnight, driving back to the ER the next day (and now as a fading haunt), frightening, nagging questions pulled at my insides: Why shouldn’t my family be thrust into hell like some of the other families with their babies in the hospital? Why does someone else’s beautiful child die and mine live? What is keeping us on the “heaven” side of the line, and are we secure in our place there? Why did Maddie’s sickness escalate into a nightmare, while A.’s only peeked in on one? The hospital is the place where my assumptions about life come crashing down all around me. There are no rules there, and no one cares which side of the fence you’re supposed to be on. Superstitions aren’t entertained and prayers are ignored. Any notion of “fairness” is laughed at.

I walked around Target yesterday in a partially celebratory (my baby is fine, right?), partially shell-shocked (my baby is fine, right?) daze, feeling like if I did not buy him this ensemble of board books then all hope might be lost. My past is filled with so many sullen strolls through the aisles of Target’s baby section (longing to be pregnant, then longing to not have a miscarriage… longing for my baby to not have a chromosomal abnormality… longing for him to be a “miracle baby” that survives the NICU without a scrape… longing to take him home… longing to care for him without a cloud of anxiety over my head… ) But here I am now: I have a baby. I have a beautiful boy to read these books to. To not buy them is to give up my place on the heaven side. So, I buy them defiantly, wishing I believed that someone was taking note.

“By dividing the people we can get them to expend their energies in fighting over questions of no importance to us except as teachers of the common herd.”

- Civil Servants’ Year Book

Although there is no history of asthma in our families, our son suddenly developed severe asthma when he was a toddler. He must carry an albuterol rescue inhaler with him at all times, and during certain times of the year his activities are limited by his health. He also has a nebulizer at home, but he cannot leave the house without his rescue inhaler.

In the past we were able to get his inhaler every month for $4. The major pharmacies provided a list of commonly prescribed medicines at this cost, and it was a huge help to consumers who either do not have access to health insurance, do not choose to purchase health insurance or who, like us, purchase health insurance which we can hardly afford to use.

I’ve noticed our health insurance costs have steadily risen along with our deductibles and copays while our covered amounts decrease and the medicines we are permitted to use are more tightly dictated. In fact, none of the asthma maintenance medicines that keep him from having to use his rescue inhaler so much are covered even though at one time under the same policy they were. Weird, huh?

Wonder where all that is headed.

Sheeple

So I went to get my son’s rescue inhaler a few months ago, and I was told things have changed. In order to save the planet we must now pay $40/month for half as much medicine in my son’s rescue inhaler.

Here’s how it works: We pay $40 for his inhaler, 10 times what we used to pay, but we only receive half the amount. Our insurance only covers the purchase of one per month, so we are on our own to buy a second one for $120.

There is twice as much medical waste, and the cost to our family has risen from $4/month to $160/month.

I’ll confess I am the product of a Texas public school and cannot tell you the % increase – but I can tell you that it’s totally jank.

Here’s how partisan politics works for the government and against people like you and me:

First, you create a polarizing non-issue

Second, you challenge the masses to take an emotional position and begin bickering back and forth

Third, government moves in to save the people.

In this case, the planet is saved by doubling medical waste and dipping into our family’s already tight finances at the expense of our child.

Everyone put on your superhero capes and give yourselves a pat on the back.

Question:

I am taking Metoprolol for my PVC’s. I am also taking Singulair and Zyrtek for my allergies; as well as Albuterol for my Asthma. Will the Metoprolol have any effect on my allergy medication’s effectiveness??

Answer:

Metoprolol will not affect the Singulair or Zyrtec, your two allergy medications. There is a potential interaction between the metoprolol and the albuterol, though. Since metoprolol blocks beta receptors on the heart, it can interact with albuterol, which stimulates beta receptors in your airway. Metoprolol is considered to be selective for the receptors on your heart, and should have very little effect on the airway and the effectiveness of your albuterol.

Back home resting comfortably from the Pentamidine treatment.  I didn’t get the face redness this time.  I did get real shaky hands.  Tech says that is from the albuterol, a bronchodilator pre-treatment I take for 5 minutes to open up the airways.  Side effect a shaky jitteryness.  Sure did take away my wheezy lung action.  I was in a room used to take lung samples.  No toxic booth device here, pentamidine not used very often in these parts.  The tech wore a mask and the room has a strong ventilation system which was running and I sat down near it.  I was comfortable, brought my pillow and had some reading material so the 45 minutes there went quickly.  the stuff still tastes yucky and I still turned to the side to swallow.  In fact it is 6 p.m. now and I am still with crystal clear lungs.  Went to take my usual walk and hit the wall pretty quick, so I guess it all took a bit out of me.  Couch time, no problem.

Hello!!! I am 70 years old|Hecht|. I worked as  a teacher for 41 year|elementary| |cl|. I taught children|kids| how to swim, how to love nature. Three children|kids| grew in my own family|family|. Unfortunately|strenth|, I didn’t have enough health and energy. And then grandchildren appeared. It was necessary to leave job|wrk|. And illnesses appeared. At first bronchitis, and then asthma. I stayed in a hospital for two years|nosocomion|. It was so hurtfully. I had such a good family|family|, but|but| the only thing I could do during that horrible time is to think about death.  In May,61 I decided|solve| to fight with illnesses by myself. But without|senza| medications I couldn’t do anything. I started taking  Zithromax| and got rid of my bronchitis. From asthma I was rescued by Albuterol| . Now everything is perfect. Every morning I get up and lie down with prayer|preces|. Also I douche two times a day with cold water. I wish health to all of you! And remember the |but| main|king| – think only  about good things and believe in yourself.

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