I remember I felt incredibly confused.
I’d walked out of the doctor’s office with two scripts for different asthma medication and had immediately forgotten what she’d said about how to use it all. She’d said something about the spacer that I’d recently stopped using for my son.
I thought it was something for small children and that he was old enough to take his medication by placing his inhaler directly into his mouth. He was seven after all. Surely he could use an inhaler properly, like other children I’d seen doing the same.
I think my pharmacist knew I was feeling a bit overwhelmed. She can normally tell. Is it a good sign that you know your pharmacist so well because you are at the doctor so often with your children?
“What do you need today,” she asked kindly.
“All of this,” I said, handing over the scripts and my Medicare card.
“Mum, can I have chocolate,” my son started whining.
“No, put it back,” I said firmly however knowing if he asked me one more time I’d say “yes” just so I could have a moment of quiet.
My son was diagnosed with asthma when he was four. We were grocery shopping and he and his sister were chasing each other up and down the aisle. Suddenly he stopped and turned around. He was as white as a ghost and his lips were turning blue. We went straight upstairs to the medical centre and thus our asthma journey had begun.
There was no wheezing.