The Calm Before The Storm

My mother and I were slated to go to my sister (hi, Chayie!) that Shabbos. Little did I know that this would be my last Shabbos in a normal environment for a very long time. I stopped at my apartment on the way there to pick up Pumpkin; I was still hand feeding him, so I couldn't leave him home over the weekend. By the time we got to Chayie and Dave, I was ois mentch (barely human). I was huffing and puffing at even the slightest exertion. A bunch of Chayie's rugrats were there for Shabbos (was it the Lenches? I don't remember). I was informed that I was going to be sleeping in the attic. Yes, that attic...the one at the top of more stairs than the Washington Monument. First thing I did was shlep my suitcase up there. I didn't want the kids sticking their grubby little fingers in the cage and harassing Pumpkin, so I lumbered back downstairs and shlepped the cage up to the attic as well. By the time I came down a third time to partake of the now traditional "Before Shabbos Kugel", I could barely catch my breath.
It went on like this all Shabbos. My breathing was becoming more and more labored. Chayie was becoming more and more concerned. I pretty much knew I should be in the hospital. I knew this wasn't just the usual little asthmatic wheeze I suffered through once in a while. I guess I was just putting off the inevitable. As usual, when Shabbos was over Chayie tried to get me to take home some of the leftovers. Normally I grab whatever is offered; it's a whole lot better than the Meal Mart crap I usually wind up nuking for dinner. This time I felt so sick by the time I left I just shook her off and huffed and puffed my way back to my apartment.