on asthma

You know, I really love spring.

I love warmer weather. I love the long days, where it doesn't get dark until after 8 p.m. I love seeing people all around Findlay Market on Saturdays. The flowers everywhere are absolutely gorgeous. But every year, it affects me almost the same way: allergies.

I am convinced that this has only gotten worse with age. When I was a kid it didn't happen, and when I was in my teens it was more of an annoyance; as long as I had some Kleenex in my backpack, no big deal. But the real problems started about four years ago. I was living in a crappy little studio, and working for an apartment complex about a mile away. At the time I didn't have a car and walked to and from work every day. That spring, I got the worst hay fever I'd ever had. I didn't have health insurance, so it got worse and worse. After a while, the strangest thing started happening: I couldn't breathe.

Finally, I told my mom the details of the situation, and she agreed to finance a visit to the Urgent Care facility at the end of my street. The Urgent Care was two tenths of a mile from my house. Two tenths. And you know how many times I had to stop to rest on the way there, because I couldn't breathe? Twice. When I got there and they finally saw me, I was shocked to learn that I'd developed asthma. It was part of my allergic reaction to everything that was going on outside. The doctor gave me this amazing breathing treatment that finally released all the phlegm from my chest, and prescribed me with some steroids and an inhaler to use. That thing saved my life.

Anyway, that was four years ago, and since then I've had some bad allergies - tons of tissues filled every April - but never asthma. Until now. The funny thing is, I just went to the doctor on Thursday to get some Allegra (be glad you didn't see my eyes before that. My mom was pained just looking at them). And then the previous Thursday - that time was the strep throat. Last week I mentioned the asthma but since I wasn't wheezing then, they didn't do anything. Now I have to go back and illustrate for them.

Not being able to breathe is absolutely horrible. It's the most helpless feeling in the world. This morning around 5 I woke up suddenly, and every breath I was taking sounded like a whiny gasp for air. And there was nothing I could do - I'm not about to head to the ER. (I couldn't afford that, even with my student insurance paying 80%. Tuesday I'll go see my doctor, since I'm working all day tomorrow.) I know there's stuff in my lungs, but I can't cough it up, no matter how hard I try. So while I feel like all I've been doing is bitching for a few weeks 'round these parts, I'm sorry, but it's all I can do.
_______________________________________________________________