I knew something was up when Jamie stopped breathing at one in the morning due to an asthma attack.
I was happily snuggled in with Mom and Dad – my rash is almost gone – and Mom had shut the bedroom door. Erik was out at a meeting that was running overly-long, and she didn’t want me pouncing on him when he finally did come home. On meeting nights, he will often go out for a bite to eat with his co-workers, and Mom didn’t know when to expect him.
Everyone else went to sleep. Suddenly, Mom was awakened by the sound of retching and choking.
Wondering who was being sick outside her bedroom door, she kicked off the covers and flung the door open to find Jamie clutching his throat in the hallway. His eyes boggled and he was very red in the face. I jumped to the floor and lay very, very, still.
Quickly Mom grabbed an inhaler and administered an emergency dose. Dad was frozen. Jamie took a few gasps, and in a twinkling, Mom had the nebulizer hooked up. “Do you still know how to do that?” Dad managed to squeak out, incredulously. Jamie hasn’t had an asthma attack in almost 8 years. It was extremely frightening. I swear, I didn’t move a muscle, I didn’t get in the way, I didn’t try to kiss anyone. I knew this was a dangerous situation.
It took some time, but eventually everything went back to normal. I didn’t go back on the bed until everyone else was settled in.
Mom and Dad barely slept a wink all night. They took turns checking on Jamie to make sure he was OK. I stayed by their feet and monitored the situation.
Today, Mom sent Jamie to school with an inhaler in his pocket and his backpack. It’s always better to err on the safe side.
Woof! Love, Maggie