Asthma Attack

Not me. I don't have asthma, but my mom does. She was diagnosed as a little girl. As she grew up her attacks became less and less frequent. I haven't heard of her complain of having had an attack in about three years, so maybe she's kinda grown out of it now. She'd have an attack when she was around too much dust/dirt. Sometimes when we were dusting inside the house, she'd have to be in another room or she'd just let that be the last thing that we had to do when we were cleaning up. If she let it be the last item on the checklist, she'd just leave the house while we completed that.

Picture it, Savannah, 1993. ::wavy television lines and me titling my head at a slight angle to the right:: We had gone to visit my grandmother. Good times indeed. How I long for the fun, food and fellowship of those former days. (Gold star for the first person who has been out of high school for at least ten years who can remember the term for the literary device that I used in the previous sentence.) At some point on this trip mama's asthma began to flare up. I'm not really sure if people say flare up when it comes to asthma, but whatever. Fortunately she had her inhaler because she knew that there was always the possibility of an attack whenever we visited my grandmother because some of the rooms may be dusty. I was there when it happened and whenever I see her in this condition my heart races, because I know that all I can do is make sure she has her inhaler and pray that she doesn't get nervous or panic herself. I don't remember who got the inhaler to her, but once she got it and inhaled she was okay after a few minutes. Crisis averted.

Once we returned home we returned to business as usual. You know, complaining from him* about keeping the house clean, going to church and school, cutting the grass. I only offer that information to underscore the fact that nothing was happening out of the ordinary. On the second night after the return from Moultrie, Georgia, where my grandmother lived something happened. Late one night I heard wheezing coming from my mother's bedroom. I instantly went into fix it mode. The bedroom that my brothers and I shared was directly across the hall from the bedroom that she shared with him*. I woke up with a start once I heard the wheezing. I instantly associated this with an asthma attack and since she had just had one a few days ago I was already on orange alert.

I screamed, "Mama," and dashed across the hall to locate her purse. I saw her purse on the floor near her dresser and quickly rifled though it in search of her inhaler. It was the only thing separating her from relief. What I soon realized when I turned toward the bed to give her the inhaler is that she didn't need relief. Whereas I thought I heard wheezing, I heard her she was engaged in copulation with him*. I am forever scarred.
::come out of the dream state::

Okay that last line was a little dramatic, but I definitely wasn't expecting to walk in on them. We never really discussed the incident. In my household we treated matters related to sex like the plague.