On having gimp lungs

As mentioned before, I have asthma. Not the kind of asthma where you're like, yeah, the doctor told me I had asthma as a kid, but I grew out of it. Nope, not that kind of asthma. I have the type of asthma that sends me to the emergency room about once a year, gasping for breath, with blue lips and closer to death than I would like to believe. The kind of asthma that sometimes makes breathing a difficult chore I have to fight through, sometimes begging for air and wanting to give up. I have that kind of asthma. The kind that requires multiple medications daily just to live a somewhat normal existence. Yes, that kind of asthma.

Most people don't understand those of us who deal with a chronic illness. Our lives are much different than yours. There's always a little voice in my head that's like, jeez, I hope that cigarette smoke doesn't kill me today, or, jeez, I hope the preservatives in the food I'm eating doesn't cause an asthma attack and kill me. I'm always on alert. Always having to think about it, even if I don't want to.

There's always a little part of me that's jealous of you healthy people who don't have to suffer like I do just to breathe.

I used to think I was cursed or defective. Now, I just deal with it as best I can.

But some days, it reminds me that I'm not in control, that I'm not the one running this show. No! It rears its ugly head and says, "Hey, don't forget about me...or I'll take your breath away and make your life a living hell." And, today is one of those days.

Last night we slept with the window open. BIG MISTAKE! I woke up to the sound of my bunk ass bronchial tubes squealing, whistling, and wheezing. I could hear the phlegm in my lungs gurgling with each breath. I tried to ignore it, until it could no longer be ignored. I took my meds and felt relief. But the relief was short lived!

Since today is Thursday (a running day), I got dressed and attempted to run my usual 4 miles. As I ran the first 100 yards, I was hacking and gagging, trying to cough up the phlegm stuck in my lungs, trying to breathe through swollen bronchial tubes. I was breathless, tired, and beaten. So, I walked a few miles, instead. I was reminded of my illness--reminded that I am only a soul in a broken, diseased, ridden body that refuses to work properly...all because I slept with the fucking window open.

So, take a deep breath. Enjoy the air flowing effortlessly through your clear, open lungs. Enjoy the smoothness with which it flows. Don't take that feeling for granted! I would give you everything I have and more to know that feeling!