"Sucks to your Ass-mar!"

This excerpt from Lord of the Flies ran through my head when I had my annual physical last Friday. During it, I mentioned my lingering chest cold. My doctor asked some questions, then declared she didn't think I had a cold; she thought I had asthma.

I'd had mild asthma in my 30s and used an inhaler mostly to ease the tightness that came after seeing a band or dancing in a club. Then Boston passed a smoking ban, and the inhaler went away.

This time the culprit is most likely the terrible allergy season we've had this summer in Chicago. Temperatures routinely in the 90s, high humidity, bad air quality -- and me out on my bike. So today I got an inhaler, took a few hits, and was pleased to find it was easier to draw breath, and I felt more energy just walking down the street after I'd taken some puffs at the Walgreens.  One of the more annoying effects of this --well asthma, it seems -- is the extreme fatigue. I fell asleep at the hair stylist's yesterday while under the heat lamps; I fell asleep at the pharmacy waiting for my prescription, and the CTA has become my movable bedroom. Crazy, crazy fatigue. Tonight is the first night with the inhaler. I really want to bike in tomorrow, so fingers crossed!