I didn't die.
But only because I have friends who freely share their drugs.
I got a voicemail from the doctor's office late Friday afternoon saying my prescription was at my pharmacy...but I am not sure where they think the pharmacy is since every single one I've ever been to denies having it.
Luckily, a friend had an inhaler and I breathed freely all weekend long on borrowed albuterol. Also, I am beyond grateful for the comment suggestion of the over-the-counter medicine Bronkaid. Once I figure out where my prescription is, I will buy some of that when I pick it up.
I took the kids to Legoland on Monday and we played all day long until I was too tired to drive home, so we got a cheap hotel that was terrifyingly shitty.
And as I snuggled in one full bed with both of them (because like hell if I was getting a bed to myself on their watch) watching Full House on Nick at Night and amazing them by singing "The Name Game" to every name we've ever heard, I was really glad to be breathing, even if it was in probably-a-murder-hotel.
Now that I'm back home trying to figure life out, I'm a little "eh" on the whole breathing thing again, but it looks like I'll continue doing it for a while at least.