Puffing and blowing

For the past few weeks I've been out of puff. Walked up a slope? Puff, Puff! I put it down to lack of exercise. After a while I found bending down to put a dish in the oven was leaving me breathless. Hmm! Not so good. Then I remembered that when I was expecting Star I developed asthma - which, happily, disappeared again after she was born. Duh! Lightbulb moment! Over the weekend I started coughing ... and coughing. This morning I staggered out of bed, booked a medical appointment and asked my neighbour if she would mind giving me a ride back up the hill from the doctors' surgery (Tevye had the car). I thought I could manage to stagger the twenty minutes downhill to get there. My blessed, wonderful neighbour heard the coughing and wheezing and suggested I might also need a lift down the hill, which I gratefully accepted. Saw the nurse there, who listened to my halting explanation ... "think ... puff, puff ... have asthma ... cough, cough ... again ... cough, splutter ..." and promptly offered sympathy and a Ventolin inhaler. Tonight I am sitting here typing with only the occasional little cough, no spluttering, and I can move without sounding like a broken bellows. Lovely, lovely Ventolin!