Puff, Puff, Breathe

There’s a tightness in my chest.

It’s familiar. Very familiar. Reminds me of youth, of pain and leaves a nasty taste in my mouth. Wait… I know that taste. It’s prednisone. Yep, those tiny white pills that taste like poison but are actually steroids to help strengthen my lungs.

I had another asthma attack today.

It started while I was in the second leg of our all day Capital Campaign Conference at work. I feel my chest squeeze. I bite my lip. I close my eyes and concentrate, hoping to get control of my breath. I’m breathing shallow breaths now. I excuse myself and run to my office, fumble in my desk drawer and- EUREKA! there it is- my inhaler.

Two quick puffs and I relax, waiting for it to kick in. I walk back to the meeting and rejoin my colleagues as they discuss strategies on making our kick-off night even more spectacular. I’m excited about being a part. Excited to hear all of the plans and events that I will get to be a part of, but right now I’m having a difficult time focusing on their words because I’m counting my breaths.

“Ok, Calm down.” I tell myself. “You won’t lose your job. You won’t miss too much. Just excuse yourself and go to the hospital. But be calm about it.”

I write a note to my Director: Hey Sheryl, I’m having some problems with my asthma right now. I need to leave. I’ll call you later.

She follows me outside after reading the note. “Please let me know what’s going on with you.”

I smile weakly and try to remain calm, but my breathing isn’t steady yet.

I go back to my office, turn off my computer and pack up my things. I call my Mama on the way to my car and let her know that I’m having an attack, but it’s not that bad. “Are you going to the ER?” she asks. “No, I’m going to pick up the boys, go home and lie down until you get off of work.” “No, just come pick me up now and if you have to go to the ER then I will already be there.”

I pick her up and I’m feeling better already. I lie down in the den while my sons play in the living room. She makes them dinner and they eat. I catch my breath- finally.

When I wake up, my sons are climbing all over me. I get up and give them baths. I play with them a little. After a while I put them to bed and sit down to play with the ring tones on my phone.

I feel it again. It’s tight. It’s squeezing me. It hurts more now than it did before. Damn I’m never smoking another black and mild again. I cough. My head hurts.

“I’m just gonna go ahead and go in,” I tell my Mama. “I don’t feel well.”

I get dressed in the most comfortable clothes I can find: a Gator t-shirt and some blue jeans and some sneakers that are cute but a little too big for me. I grab my cell phone and prepare myself for the drive.

It’s quite a feat, driving yourself to the emergency room when you can hardly breathe, but I’ve done it before and I’m used to it. I just turn down the music so I can concentrate and count my breaths. I make sure to pay close attention to the traffic and I drive even more slowly than I usually do.

I make it to the ER in 10 minutes and walk up like I’m visiting someone else. I’m concentrating so hard on not letting my weakness show.

I walk up to the Triage nurse. “What’s going on with you tonight honey?” she asks.

The tears begin to flow. For the first time I feel like I don’t have to front. Like I can admit that I am not well and I can just relax and be taken care of.

“I can’t breathe. It’s my asthma.”

She slides a stack of forms on a clipboard through the window. I crouch down to fill them out, wiping the dotted tears that fall on the forms.

When I’m done I slide the clipboard back to her and stand up. I lean against the wall, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the people in the ER waiting room. I really don’t like to see sick people. I feel so bad for them.

My name is called not even a minute later. Asthma patients never have to wait in the emergency room. We used to though. I remember the rule changed when I was younger after a man died from asthma while waiting his turn. Now we skip everyone else. So I walk in like a VIP.

I sit down and they take my blood pressure. Just right. They take my temperature. Just right. They listen to my lungs. Hmm. A little tight in the right blah blah blah. I’m thinking, “Who gives a damn, gimme my OXYGEN!”

They lead me into a small white room and ask me to undress and put on the hospital gown and lie down. I’m thinking, “GIMME MY OXYGEN!” but I’m calmly obeying their instructions.

A gentleman stops by and my eyes get wide. I can see it! He has my mask right there! He hooks it up t othe oxygen tank and I can hear the whir of the oxygen flowing through the mask. He adds two vials of medicine to the mask and I can see the smoke billowing out from it. He places the band that holds the mask in place around my head and I sigh with relief, here it is, my first inhale.

Ahhhhhh…

I inhale again. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Slow. Deep. Thorough.

I lean back.

I relax.

I inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

The smoke from the medicine mixed with the oxygen is clouding my vision so I close my eyes. I imagine Mr. Rico Suave walking in.

Mmmm, mmm. He sees me there, all vulnerable and delicious looking. He’s wearing a lab coat, but he doesn’t look like a doctor to me.

“Time for your breast exam.” he announces.

“HEYY! I’m in here for an asthma attack!”

“Oye Mami! Chill out. It’s routine. Routine. Massage for the lungs, ok?”

“Well, if you say so.” I mumble through my mask and relax. I giggle. He looks just like The Rock. They could be cousins.

Wow. I’m seeing stars now.

I hear a clink and look down to see the stirrups being raised.

My feet are being placed in them.

“You’ll feel just a bit of pressure,” he says calmly as he steps closer to the bed.

I close my eyes tightly.

“Ma’am. Your treatment is over. You can get dressed now.”

The voice, it’s the lady’s voice. The same lady who brought me in here.

“The doctor will be right back in to listen to you.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Shoot. Can’t even get none in my fantasies.

I get dressed and wait patiently for the doc, who pronounces me all better. I take a couple of DEEP breaths. I feel all tingly. Like I just drank some caffeine.

I’m jittery from the medication.

I get my prescriptions and leave.

And I ride, with my windows all the way down, deeply breathing in the night air.

Thankful that I made it out okay once again.

Hoping that I don’t have to see this place again anytime soon.