Asthmattack

My eyes shot open as I was torn from the comfortable realm of sleep. Panic shooting across my face as my lungs struggled, clawing for every bit of air that they could get. Each breath was a battle, but of course was necessary to stay alive. My mind raced to decide what options were open to me. My puffer, where was it. I reached for my backpack, knowing it wasn’t in there but hoping against hope that I was wrong. Tearing through each and every pocket, pulling out every object inside, I came to realize that I was right about it not being there, and that I was in fact over an hour away from that relief.

The stress made breathing harder.

What now? Even though I wasn’t a stranger to this house, I had no idea if there was cough syrup, lozenges, or any other kind of generic medical help for my current situation. I left the guest room and went to the bathroom to check the medicine cabinet. Nothing familiar.

Each breath began to cause pain in my chest.

What could I do now? Either wake somebody up or try and take care of the problem myself. I tried to wake my friend Johnny, but he was sound asleep and I didn’t want to risk waking the entire house pounding on his door.

Breaths were ragged and difficult as the stress piled up.

Next I went to the kitchen. Gargling warm salt water has always worked to help curb a sore throat, why wouldn’t it work for this. Looking through the cupboards I grabbed the first glass I could. The salt was easy to find and I quickly added it to water that was somewhere between warm and hot. Kyle was sleep in the other room, so I went to the bathroom to gargle. There I was able to close the door, so any noise and light that I made wouldn’t bother him.

Breathing was painful and tears came with each and every breath.

After 5 or 6 glasses of warm/hot water and salt was gargled, my throat was beginning to feel like normal again and I found that I could take breaths without being reduced to tears, fearing that it was the last one my lungs could handle.

Breathing still took way more effort than it should, but no longer caused pain.

What was I supposed to do now? I knew I couldn’t go back to sleep, because without my puffer or constant gargling of salt water, the discomfort, the pain, the fear would return. There was only one option. I would have to risk driving home to Cambridge. I packed my things into my backpack, woke Kyle up long enough to let him know I was going and headed out the door.

The thought of not making it home brought the struggling of breathing back.

I tried to think positive thoughts as I headed out. Stopping at the Mac’s convenience store, I bought 2 packs of Halls for the ride. As soon as they were paid for I popped 2 into my mouth and fired up the truck. Luckily at 4 in the morning there isn’t very much traffic on the highway or any roads. The ride home was uneventful. I just put on cds and worked my way through an entire pack of halls. My two concern were staying awake and to keep breathing. Luckily the halls kept my throat and lungs working, and the terrible working condition of my throat and lungs kept my brain awake, if just to focus on the struggle of breathing.

Breathing got easier the closer I got to home, and my puffer.

When I finally pulled into my driveway, I didn’t even take my stuff with me out of the truck and into the house. I just went in and made a b-line for the puffer. I could hear my mom waking up and moving around upstairs, clearly worried that somebody had come into the house at 5 in the morning. After taking the medicine and feeling my lungs relax, I went to the bottom of the stairs and looked up to see her worried/frightened face. “It’s just me” I said.

“What are you doing here?” She questioned.

“Asthmattack. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow”

With that she went back to bed, and after a glass of water and another puff of the ventolin just to be safe, I did the same.

The next day I had to try and explain to the friends from London why I left in the middle of the night, without saying goodbye.

A friend Monica asked; “Why did I just leave?”, “Why did I drive myself home?”, “Why didn’t I just go to the hospital?”

Clearly, she doesn’t have asthma, because when talking to anyone that does, an asthmattack is an excuse for almost anything. There is no common sense, there is no logical thinking, there is only “what can I do right now to fix this?” To be honest, as soon as I realised my puffer wasn’t with me, I knew I was making that trip

They say that the worst way to die is from choking, suffocation, or drowning, because you have the experience, the fear, of slowly losing all of the oxygen in your body. It is the scariest experience I have ever gone through and I wouldn’t wish it on anybody.

The weird thing is, I hadn’t had an asthmattack for about 8 years before this, and even then it wasn’t anything to worry about. I have trouble with cats and animal hair, but nothing that would really make me worry, but this was the worst asthmattack that I can remember, in my life.

So yeah, I’m sorry to anybody up in London that I scared with my middle of the night disappearance, but I did try and text anybody I thought would be impacted by it. Next time I’ll definitely bring my inhaler, that way I can just take a couple of puffs of it and go back to sleep.