Lila had her first "treatment" today. For any of you who are fans of the sci-fi show "Dollhouse," you know why that makes me snicker.
|That's (not) me in the suit.|
But all kidding aside, last night Lila tossed and turned all night waking up crying and frustrated because she simply could not breathe.
Lila has finally developed Mommy's asthma.
My poor kid. Last night was awful. It's seriously the worst feeling in the world when you can hear your kid wheezing and struggling for air but she doesn't complain enough for you to think its an emergency. I wanted to take her to the hospital but knew it would just scare her and so I had to let her just suffer through it until morning. Until we could get her into her doctor. Until they could give her the "treatment" and send us home with a nebulizer contraption.
|It's kind of like this. (But not really)|
And so for a week, every four to six hours, I have to strap the thing onto her head and force her to breathe in the vapors and pray that she lets me. Because with all the other fun battles (eating, sleeping, what to wear, not being an asshole) I truly don't want to have to fight another one.
And because the doc said that it is likely just a side effect of the extremely high pollen count and the moisture that is causing an outbreak of mold, she is optimistic that she will not need the treatments every day of her life.
Which I hope is true. Because being the sickly kid with asthma would be terrible for my kid's reputation as a trouble maker.