What has possessed me to sign up for my first half marathon? (I am wondering myself!)
So as some people may know, about a year or so ago I was hospitalised due to a severe asthma attack. It all started innocently enough, with a common cold and difficulty breathing which was usually alleviated by a puff or two of my inhaler.
It had stretched on for two weeks or so, and the side-effects of the ventolin were starting to take it’s toll.
I was feeling a bit weak and jumpy, on edge and was irritable and anxious about things which would not usually bother me, but I kept on doing all the things i usually do, asthma wasn’t going to win this time, it couldn’t stop me from having my usual “wobbly wednesday” night out with my friends, I had a secret weapon which allowed me to keep calm and carry on – my inhaler.
My inhaler served me well, i went out, had a few vodka lime sodas, busted out some (probs embarrassing) dance moves and got a kebab, almost forgetting I even had asthma.
When I came home I was talking on the phone to a boy I was seeing and realised that it was becoming harder to talk, I wasn’t able to be my usual chatty self.
I sought the relief of my inhaler, breathing in deeply I waited for it to help me breathe. But the relief never came. My inhaler had stopped working.
It was like the feeling when you are a kid in a swimming pool and someone ‘dunks’ you, holding you under the water away from the air, and all you want is to take a breath but you can’t, your lungs are useless.
