|My bronchial tubes are plotting against me.|
By Pearson Scott Foresman [Public domain],
via Wikimedia Commons
Now, that was a stupid idea.
Between the cold and the exercise, the attack when I got home was no surprise. I'm ok, now.
I know for a fact that an attack will happen after cleaning if I don't take precautions. Eventually, my lungs will get strong enough to need meds before running, but for now? I need something to keep them open.
I'm also doing daily peak flow readings and recording them on a free app I downloaded at the end of December. It's kind of cool, actually. You input your peak flow readings every day, as well as the zones you've established with your doctor, and it'll automatically convert the successive readings into a chart.
You can also log asthma attacks, and make notes of where you were at the time, what you were doing, and how you treated them. Since I've had asthma for over 20 years now, I'm familiar with my triggers, but logging in more detail might help me identify more ways to manage the disease.
I'm sure the yoga and running will eventually have a positive impact on my breathing. Stupidity-induced attack from today aside, I do already feel a bit of an improvement.
I'm still going to keep wearing my dust mask when I clean, though. It's annoying, but since dust is my number one trigger/allergy, I need to at least try keeping it at bay. Of course, that stupid mask is why I haven't done the cleaning related tasks on this weekend's to-do list. It helps, but it's uncomfortable.
And, honestly. Dust? Why? Why does my body freak out at dust mites, even though they've surrounded me my entire life? You'd think by now that my immune system would realize they're not a threat.
It's kind of like my husband's new bee sting allergy. He's been stung countless times before, but that last time had his immune system overreacting. Now, he carries an epi-pen and antihistamines when he's working outside. Or rather, I hope he is. I can't know, since he's a landscaper, and I'm not with him 24/7 during the season. When we're out together, I carry his meds in my bag, since the epi-pen is a double pack, and too big for his pockets.
The human body's so weird.