The one in which I throw up my hands and give up

M has had horrific allergies since about the time we got married and started living together. Which was also right about the time that Dumb Cat and Lazy Cat moved in. And horrific allergies means not just snuffling and sneezing but actual ending up at urgent care or the hospital several times a year because his chest is so congested he can’t take a deep breath and he physically can’t stand up without falling over.

About four years ago I finally made him mention the situation to his doctor who promptly announced that it had to be the cats and to get rid of them. M refused to part with his adored Lazy Cat (Dumb Cat he would have sent off in a heartbeat I believe) so the doctor put him on some allergy meds, which helped greatly but if he forgets to take a dose he ends up ill again.

After the last round of driving my husband to the now not so conveniently located urgent care center at 6am in the morning, I finally put my foot down and insisted that he make an appointment with A’s very nice allergist so we could find out what exactly it was he was allergic to. Because enough is enough, and while I don’t know that I could get rid of the cats if M was indeed allergic, I could at least ban them from M’s office and our bedroom in hopes that it helped somewhat.

So yesterday, M headed in and got jabbed several times to try and discover the reason for his suffering. Upon hearing his story the allergist was also convinced it was the cats but tested for all the common household allergens just to be safe (all while informing M that his current drug regimen was all wrong given his heart issues, how lovely!)

After his appointment M called me and announced “The good news is, the cats can stay. The bad news is, I’m allergic to dust. Highly allergic to dust. Allergic to the point my arm swelled up.” Of course my first reaction was, “Huh. A swells up, perhaps she too is highly allergic to dust. We didn’t test that one.” And my second reaction was “Oh GOD. He’s allergic to dust and I am the world’s worst housekeeper.” And my third reaction was “Of course! He moved from his parent’s home which is always spotless to my, um, less than spotless home, and that’s when the allergies really kicked in! FABULOUS!”

So first I rejoiced in the fact that the cats could stay and then I suggested that perhaps his parents would love to buy one of the new condos in town and he could move back in with them and I could bring the kiddos over to visit daily. But now I think I probably have to get serious about replacing the ten year old cheap-o vacuum that has never really worked well, and the 20 year old down pillows that I sure would make the allergist shudder. And, according to the internets, the lovely sheepskin rugs we got for our wedding from my mom are right. out. As are the lovely floor length drapes that came with the house and I have always coveted (just not, perhaps, in the current color). And M’s favorite smother yourself in warmth down comforter that I am sure is just a breeding ground for dust mites…

I think it would have been easier to keep the cats out of the bedroom.

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