I hate being asthmatic.
Like right now, after suffering through a particularly bad attack, I actually really hate it. I hate that I can’t breathe without a hitch in my back and lungs. I hate not being able to take a deep full breath, take I take baby breaths and each time I forget and I breathe deeply, there is this scratchy noise that reverberates from my chest to my head and I involuntarily cough.
I hate the back aches that come along with every attack and the horrible nausea. For some reason, nausea from food poisoning feels a lot milder than the one I get from an asthma attack. Perhaps at least with the case of food poisoning, I am emptying my stomach. With the asthma one, it feels like I’m wretching my entire lung out, and my limbs seem to turn to jelly.
Each time I go through a particularly bad attack, it’s like a trip down memory lane, like reliving various battle scars. This particular one, I’ll remember for curling up in fetal position because my back hurt too much for me to walk and I was too weak. The last bad one, my lips were blue that even the dreaded NHS allowed me to jumped the queue of a six hour wait.
There are other things I hate about being asthmatic too aside from the physical illness. I hate how I’m so dependent, that I would carry a little inhaler with me. I’m glad I’ve improved such that I no longer have to use a preventer, but I still hate having to be dependent on a medication that I panic when I leave the house without it.
I hate how dependent I am on my friends…I hate that little fear in their eyes when I start to cough and how I make them worry. I hate that sometimes Eizwan has to drop work to rush me to the clinic and that I’m so dependant on someone. I hate that there are emergency plans centred around me, like who drives to which clinic and that Doctors say that I can just cut the queue to rush in, just in case.
Having said all that, I also hate how people can misunderstand my condition. I hate doctors who think either I’m faking it just because I ‘sound’ alright. Dude, I know when I’m ill, alright? Or when they ignore my explicit statements that certain medications triggers an attack.
I hate how the general public give me strange looks when I use my inhaler (hey, better that than dead right?) or worse, try to sell me products that will improve my asthma? It’s amusing during the times when I’m actually well, “Why yes, I would try ground alligator,” to just plain insulting on days when I’m very ill. Trust me, I’ve ingested funky mushrooms and herbs and attempted very painful reflexology for nearly 25 years now, trying to get over this problem of mine. Chances are, I would have tried your product years ago and it probably doesn’t work.
It’s a strange thing to say though, I can’t imagine my life without asthma. On good days, weeks and months, I never forget it, it’s always about one step away from a bad attack. It’s always lurking behind the scenes. One wrong move and I’m wheezing, one bite of a pineapple leads to a scene at the emergency ward.
Asthma permeates my life, it makes me who I am. It is a very significant part of me. It influences my decisions, what I do with my life, how I eat, how I live.
I’m at the age where I’m becoming happy with the person that I am, that I’ve accepted who myself.
But I really, really do hate my asthma.