So it's 6 a.m. and I'm driving down I-75 South in Georgia in the wee hours of the morning when the anxiety strikes. I couldn't find my rescue inhaler. My Ventolin had gone missing.
Did I leave it in the hotel? Did I leave it in the lobby? Did my wife pack it in the bathroom bag? I looked behind me and her head was resting on a pillow. I wasn't about to wake her to ask. The kids were sleeping soundly too. So I continued to roll possibilities around in my head.
Thankfully I...

