Asthmar

It is 7:09 AM on may 21^st, 2008. I am in the throws of an asthmatic episode.

It started with wheezing. I woke up from 4 hours of sleep, hearing various pitches, making a sort of song as I inhaled and exhaled. I began to obsess on this, and worry about the symptoms ahead. I began to feel as if someone was holding my neck, pressing their pointer finger and thumb into each side, which led to labored breathing. Labored breathing is exactly what it sounds like. It’s no longer an automatic thing, like a heart beating. Breathing is an action, similar to doing a sit-up. All of my attention was devoted to executing this action, because it had to be. Shortly thereafter, I had the sensation of my lungs being half as big; constricted. It’s as if my deepest breath could only reach a little further down than my collarbone.

I managed to consume enough air to keep me alive, but so little that I panicked. My entire body began to feel tired. Muscles, particularly the muscles in my back and forearms, laid totally relaxed, incapable; though I couldn’t get back to sleep. I tried to stretch in an attempt to reinvigorate them, but they felt no better and the effort compounded my general exhaustion. I started to become aware of all the aches and pains in my body; which appeared or reawoke only in the minutes prior.

As I type I am breathing manually, feeling as though I’m not getting enough air. My heart is racing. Various parts of my body ache or are uncomfortable, and I feel totally helpless. I consider that If my body decided that I shouldn’t inhale any air, instead of very little, I would die. I am angry. There is a feeling of absolute loneliness. Those who aren’t asthmatic have no idea how this feels, and can’t. Lovers, if witness to this, will do something clearly pointless, like get me water or pat me on the back. I’ve done it all. Coffee, water, antihistamines, decongestants, steroids, albuterol, “taking it easy”, breathing exercises, trying to distract myself. They all work temporarily to varying degrees, but the attacks never disappear. Even if one can be stopped or prevented, the day will come when this will happen again, and It’s probably tomorrow.

I am fully aware that there is no value in my whining; but I don’t know what else to do.