Breathe In. Breathe Out.

Finding soccer as a third grader was like finding a little slice of heaven.  It was the first time I had been part of a team.  It was magical.  The team consisted mostly of girls from my elementary school.  I loved seeing them outside of the school at practices and games.  It was through playing soccer that I found a new sense of self.  I was dedicated and in love with the sport.  I was set.  Well, that was until the shortness of breath began interfering with my ability to practice and play.

After some doctor visits and tests it was determined that I had a mild case of exercise induced asthma.   I was prescribed a low does preventative inhalor and began to pre-treat with an albuterol inhalor before I exercised.  The doctor told my parents that staying active was actually better for me and with this treatment plan I would be fine.  I was back on the field, inhalor tucked safely in my bag, running and playing hard. I eventually added basketball to my repertoire and continued to play both sports through high school.

It was not until middle school that my asthma moved from mild to moderate.  I started having symptoms off the field.  These symptoms became more frequent and more severe.  The preventative medical regime was boosted which helped most of the time.  After the death of a friend in 7th grade, I suffered my first severe attack.  The night before I was hospitalized I remember being so scared.  My mom up all night rubbing my back and my dad checking in.  This had never happened before so at the time we did not own a nebulizer to help ease my breathing.  It was a frigid Saturday morning, my dad stayed home with my sister and brother and my mom drove me to Children's.  I remained at Children's until Thursday morning, I was released just in time to eat a little Thanksgiving dinner at my grandma's.  High school brought two more hospitalizations and an increased awareness that my asthma was never going away.


Along the journey we became more educated as a family about my condition.  I remember walking into my parents house with a cough and they would both look at me and ask what I was doing for my lungs.  If you have ever been around someone with asthma you know the cough I am talking it.  It is undeniably the cough of an asthmatic.  I knew that my teammate knew me well in my second year teaching when she walked into my classroom and asked the same question my parents would ask- she had heard "the cough".  


Allergies were learned to play a major role in my symptoms.  Life style changes had to occur as animal allergies are my most severe.  Through it all I had an amazing allergy and asthma doctor who we trusted.  She helped teach me to not allow asthma to control my life.  It is now something that I quietly live with, except for the occasional attack spurred by a chest cold or stress.


I write all this today, because after almost 17 years of having asthma I still get scared when it gets bad.  Yesterday I knew it was coming, last night I felt it get worse.  My fiance already knows the cough and knew I was pretending like it was better than it was.   I did a nebulizer (for those of you who don't know this is an albuterol treatment from a machine) and went to bed.  Throughout the night I took treatments that offered little relief.  My mom had taught Brian how if I was really bad he could place his head on my back and hear the symphony of my lungs. I felt him do that throughout the night.  Today I saw the doctor and got steroids, which I despise, but that help.  I know that I will be fine and that I control my asthma well.  Yet, even at almost 27 years old it still scares me and I still call my mom.