Breathing

Last night I arrived home from dinner with a friend and, within a few minutes, I was losing my ability to breathe. It starts with itching at my throat and then a constriction rapidly spreads to my chest. My asthma inhaler is useless at times like these, relying on the very breath I haven’t got to take it into my lungs. Despite many futile attempts to self-administer, it was doing nothing. My breath was just lessening and I was becoming very frightened. Crying was a disaster… it took too much energy and strain, but tears still relented.

Chronic brittle asthma.

I knew I should get to hospital, but “I might be able to cope”. Looking back, it is a damned stupid way of looking at it. The “invincible Lucy”? Ha-ha… how utterly ridiculous! I felt extremely vulnerable last night. It became bigger than I could handle and I chose to call home.

Instantly, my Mum knew I was in trouble. She gets asthma too and understands how vital it is to soothe and to relax. It is the fear which exacerbates things for me. One word replies finally rolled into short sentences and the ease of breathing came back after an hour or so. Mum kept me still and calm. It felt as though I were emerging from somewhere bleak and cold. I can’t stand the fact that I know this place.

Breathing… it is a wonderful thing not to have to think about.