It’s never a good sign when you need to upscale the size of your medicine bowl that sits next to the coffee pot.
We are dropping like flies here on the fringe, but we are battling the dust mites with our every last little bit of breath.
It’s currently 2:00am and I am awake. I am also lounging on the couch while the air-conditioner drones her cool magic, and I am watching Clean House. I am sure I’ll have dreams of someone coming and cleaning MY house.
FringeMan just finished antibiotics for Bronchitis and if you’ll remember, he also had pneumonia a month ago. He added his own brand of allergy pills and Nasal spray to the medicine mix, but it’s FringeBoy that sent me to find a bigger bowl.
FringeBoy has been enduring allergy testing to he can get immunized to bees. If you’ll remember last summer he was stung by a yellow-jacket and ended up in the hospital. He’s deathly allergic to bees and fire ants, and since that fateful day, we have used no less than forty-two cans of bee and wasp spray.
We are like the marines storming enemy territory when a bee dares to fly past our porch. FringeMan has been known to burst from our front door with a can of poison in one hand and the fireplace shovel in the other. FringeMan battling bees is similar to a tennis match without the LOVE. He swats bees from the sky and then pounces for a kill.
Anyway, these allergies of my son’s are pretty bad. He’s on an assortment of medicine that I am sure no ten year-old should be taking and I’ve been forced to turn his semi-clean/semi-trashed room into a completely sterile environment. I have been commissioned by the doctor to boil pots of water, fill my machine, and soak his bedding in the boiling water for 30 minutes prior to washing each week. I am not joking.
FringeMan’s sister called me the other night, because she was afraid I had gone all Howard Hues. Not the case. I leave those absurd cleaning compulsions to my brother. I have no choice but to be extreme. I’m a little afraid of what this doctor will do if I don’t obey. He’s totally bizarre. Another story for another day.
Needless to say, my son’s room has been sanitized, boiled, and purified. The industrial size air purifier keeps his room more sterile than a hospital room. Trust me, I know this since I spent the better part of the evening in the hospital myself.
A bad asthma attack sent me coughing my way into the ER tonight. Nothing I had would work and a lack of oxygen doesn’t make for an extremely peppy FringeGirl; however, after a breathing treatment and steroids, I am good to go…for at least the next four to six hours.
So you see, we could use your prayers. We could also use the Merry Maids and a vacation in Hawaii, but I’ll settle for a prayer. Easy breathing and controlled allergies are all we’re asking.