Breathe

Meet my Inhaler

I am at home now recovering from "asthmatic" symptoms. I haven't been diagnosed with asthma from the walk in clinic nearby. I was given two puffers. One in case of emergency or before exercise. The other is a steroid to take "regularly". I looked it up on the internet and it is meant for the rest of my life.  I have had this mysterious breathing difficulty pass in and out of my life since childhood. I get an episode of not being able to breathe and then it would go away. It was non-existent for good twenty years, but lately it has been slowly creeping into my life. It is quite scary to not be able to do something that you are suppose to do involuntarily. I remember getting frustrated with my dad about his condition. Thinking that if he had a positive attitude, he would overcome his illness. Nothing knocks you down to size like the inability to function with your body. With every breath I am now taking is now done with a greater appreciation. Often, yes, we take these fine things for granted: our health, our loved ones, and our whole well being.

 I haven't been able to sleep these past two nights. Finally, my older sister gave me a kick in the butt and told me to go the walk in clinic to at least get a puffer. She said, I could stop breathing in the night.  So I begrudgingly took her advice and went. I dislike hospitals and I dislike the sterile setting of a medical clinic. I associated it with death, deterioration, and illness. As a little girl, my parents would take us to hospital to see dying relatives. Hence that deep association still rests with me. Both of my parents took countless amount of drugs for blood pressure, cholesterol, and for bone. It was just ridiculous to me. I swore that I would not move in that direction. When I am 80 years, I want to ride a motorbike. I want to do it drug free. 

So in the next span of 40 years, I am going to learn how to breathe. No puffers. Just me and my powerful reason to live my life. 

Helga