Growing up with asthma: Chapter 3
I had been short-of-breath like this before, and even had dad take me to the hospital once or twice, but this episode was happening right now. I could make it through the night, I was sure I could.
Time had passed, but I was unsure of how much. I might have slept, but I wasn't sure if I really did. I didn't have a clock. I looked out the window and it was pitch black. How long until the sun comes up? I hope it's not long.
I could hear myself wheeze.
Mom and dad and my brothers were long asleep, and I tried to rest with my head high on the head board.
My mind wandered. For a short while I must have fallen asleep, and when I woke up I was reminded of my misery.
Was I breathing okay for a while, because I sure feel like I can't breath now? How could I have fallen asleep like this? Why couldn't I have just slept until the sun was up so mom would be up and I could tell her. I should have just told her last night.
On the ride home I thought I was feeling better, and dad and mom seemed so happy listening to Christmas music. It was easier just keeping quiet. That was stupid. Stupid!
I'm going to tell her now, I've made up my mind. I can't handle this anymore.
A tear trickled down my cheek.
Calm down. I have to calm down and I'll be fine. I rested my head on the headboard again, and tried to concentrate on anything other than my breathing. I thought of Christmas. I thought of all the presents I'd get.
I woke up again from a nightmare wheezing and sweating. I fell back to sleep and dreamed I was at Doctor Gustafson's office breathing fine. Then I woke again. I looked at the window; it was still dark out. Oh, come on! Why can't it be morning already?
It struck me then that I was still tight. I tried to concentrate on other things, but it was no use now. The time had come for me to tell someone. Mom's going to be mad. I don't care anymore. I can't stand this.
I knew now that I needed to go to the hospital. I needed that shot that I knew would make me feel better instantly.
I sat on the edge of the bed, placed my arms at the edge of the bed by my sides, held my shoulders high, and tried to force air into my lungs: it would only go in half way, if that. I tried again and again and again: it was no use.
I through my fist through the air. I hate this!
I stood and opened the window. The air out there was cold, but refreshing. I still couldn't breathe though. This worked earlier. Why not NOW?
I stood, leaning hard against the window, peering into the pitch black backyard for what seemed a long time, and, when relief still didn't come I made a final decision: this is it, I HAVE to go.
(For part IV click here)