No Laughing!
Yesterday I went for a checkup at the asthma & allergy practice, and the doctor (the one who pontificates on every subject under the sun, I assume to make himself feel like an authority) said to me while actually starting to write it in my chart, "no asthma symptoms, right?" I said, "well, sometimes..." He crossed out "No asthma symptoms" and amended it to "Occasional wheezing that responds to Maxair." I started to say that most of my asthma attacks were brought on by laughing, but Dr. Pontificator was already on to his next subject.
Obviously other things trigger asthma attacks for me—too-vigorous exercise (sprinting, a double shift on the ice); too much snuggling with our cat, Annie; very cold, dry air; very humid air of any temperature—but since I got pregnant, laughter has been the main asthma attack inducer. Unfortunately, as I discovered last night, my uterus has now gotten so big that really deep breaths are impossible—a Very Bad Thing when you often suffer laughter induced asthma attacks. I discovered this while attempting to relate dooce's story about a kindred spirit in constipation to my husband. I was only about one sentence in when I started laughing, then coughing, then gasping, gurgling, coughing, wheezing, and gasping some more. It was actually pretty frightening.
I couldn't find my Maxair inhaler, so I grabbed a slightly-less-safe-during-pregnancy albuterol inhaler and used that... a total of four times. The regular two puffs just didn't do it. I ended up having to sit up in bed for over an hour (I finally fell asleep in that position), coughing and clearing my throat. Yuck. So the takeaway here is: There will be no more relating funny stories to my husband. I may also have to give up reading some of my favorite blogs (gah, just thinking about some of the posts from defective yeti can send me into fits of hysteria), and the newly-minuted Daily Giggle feature in the sidebar will likely gather dust until after I give birth. There Will Be No Laughing Here.