This year I discovered that my allergy to Aspirin and its derivatives is absolute bollocks. I’ve been carrying this belief since my asthmatic childhood, spawned by doctors asking my mother about a list of known triggers in my environment. We’ve heard that everything from Aspirin to pets to feather pillows could trigger asthma attacks. So, naturally, I had limited exposure to any of those throughout my life.
I’ve told every medical provider that I’m allergic to the ol’ ASA for this reason. But last year I took a trip to the ER where as part of the protocol they gave me two baby Aspirin — nothing worse happened! I was fine!
What I’ve learned in hindsight is that the primary agonist to my childhood asthma was the incessant indoor smoking by the adults in my life. Did I age out of my adolescent asthma, or did I just move away and live smoke-free?
PARENT [puffing a cigarette]: Doctor, why does junior have asthma?
DOCTOR [lighting a cigarette]: Ma’am, we’re not too sure. It is a medical mystery. Oh, here, please use this ashtray.
So what this all means is that, as of now, I can take Ibuprofen and Aspirin. Hell, I can probably even sleep on a feather pillow with a down comforter and be alright. Which is great because with my age also comes aches and inflammation; access to NSAIDs is a godsend. And, of course, down is comfy.