VII: An Asthma Anecdote

If I were to rate all of my 6 grade school years, I would grade a 8.5/10 to my 5th grade and the rest would be 2/10. The other years were terrible, while my 5th year gave me my first real experience of brotherhood, which lead to some of the funnest childhood memories I have ever had. (More on those later.) 

But if 5th grade was my favorite year, why give just a 8.5? Because I also had my first asthma attack that year, and it never left since. There is no cure for asthma.[1]

I remember my very first attack—it was like my lungs are being murdered when I breathe or cough, and I want to pound my chest like a gorilla just to soothe the pain. I did beat it multiple times; the one time I did, I broke down and cry in agony. I hate having asthma. I really do.

That same year, I was re-introduced to my old buddy, the nebulizer. It gives me my nightly medication in the form of this ghostly white mist. It did helped me on my breathing along with this pink inhaler that has to be consumed after meal time. One inhaler has 40-50 shots. The more heartbreaking part is that the nebulizer and inhaler costs thousands separately. Separately.  One mistake of bumping the machine or missing a click is like hurting my parents’ hearts and wallets.

But thankfully the nebulizer my parents bought more than a decade ago only gave up this month in 2015. I never made out with an inhaler in years, and I never had to. Asthma never left, but it became a sleeping giant in my body, thanks to those regular medications when I was young, the year where I kept playing badminton until I fell out love for it, and being active now again by just walking around during commute—but not without those weary deep breaths as price. It doesn’t count as an asthma attack because I don’t get the same painful reactions when I was in 5th grade. I just get tired pretty easily.

I get tired pretty easily nowadays—that’s another issue I had to deal with, and another reason for my 8.5 mark on my 5th grade. Because of that weariness, I regret not being as active in sports when I was young. And that regret is another story I will tell later.

But wait. What is the lesson here? Asthma is here to stay and it sucks. But always remember that you are not alone. I mean, my parents, like any other great parent out there, paid a lot just to ease my asthma pain. And I am always thankful for that.

By the way, I’m writing this while Mother is resting in the hospital. Asthma was the cause. And my father also had an asthma attack this year. Good God. 

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The Deranged Writer

The Deranged Writer deals with interactive designs by day and fiction-infused realities by night. Or maybe all day. And he loves talking in the third person.

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