Navigating life around flare-ups can certainly be done

My Gymnast.

When you have asthma, sometimes you have to do things a little differently than other people. That’s just how it is. You learn to adapt, make adjustments, and—most importantly—listen to your body. Some days, that means skipping out on fun. Other days, it means letting your girlfriend scrape her own windshield in the middle of a snowstorm.

Two days ago, it was a beautiful 70 degrees. After a long winter, it was nice to see people outside again. Moms and dads were out with their kids—yelling, laughing, bouncing basketballs, jumping on trampolines. People walked their dogs, chatting as they strolled through the neighborhood. Even my kids and I were outside, tossing a baseball back and forth. From the outside, I probably looked like a normal dad, enjoying the fresh air with his kids. But inside, I felt it—that tightness in my chest, the ever-present urge to cough. It sat deep in my lungs, a reminder that even on the best days, my asthma was always there. It as on this day I decided to start my 5 day course of 40 mg of steroids. 

 

Yesterday was just as nice as the day before, but I spent most of it inside. My daughter, Laney, had a Girl Scouts meeting in Muskegon, so we drove the hour and I dropped her off early in the morning. Then, I had to sit through a parent meeting. It was informative—I learned about her upcoming trip to the island for a Girl Scout event in July—but after about 30 minutes, they opened the floor to questions. And, of course, the unnecessary questions started, stretching the meeting to an hour.

Finally, I escaped and met my girlfriend for lunch. The Girl Scout meeting was in Muskegon, an hour from Shoreline, so after lunch, we found a nice spot on the beach to hang out for a few hours. Despite the warm weather, the lakefront was cooler, with high waves crashing on the shore. We walked to a bench overlooking the water but found it too windy and cold to sit. Instead, we opted to stay in the car, playing the day’s episode of The Bible in a Year with Fr. Mike Schmitz.

My asthma had been acting up for weeks, making it difficult to play catch with Laney the day before, and nearly impossible to work out. So, in a way, being stuck in meetings and sitting in a car all day was probably good for me. If I had been home, I’d have found something to do—like cleaning the garage—something my lungs wouldn’t have appreciated.

By 3 p.m., we left the beach to pick up Laney and drop her off at gymnastics. Meets take time, and while it's fun to see the girls' progress, after two hours on a hard bench—with two more to go—it gets tough. Eventually, I stepped outside to take a break, only to find that my car battery had died.

I went back inside, now short of breath and struggling to talk. Years of dealing with severe asthma as a child made me good at pretending I was fine, but my girlfriend saw through it right away. She told me to sit and take it easy, but I was determined to fix my car. She moved her car next to mine while I set up the jumper cables, and we got it started. Being from a big city, she was cautious about leaving a running car unattended. I, on the other hand, was less concerned, but she stayed outside in her car just to be safe while I went back in for the awards ceremony. What a good person she is. 

Once it wrapped up, Laney and I headed home. Jean drove in her own car, being that Muskegon was our half way point -- she lives in Grand Rapids. We stopped at Subway for dinner, where she noted, “It’s been 12 hours since I ate.” And I thought this was an odd comment, because she did pack a lunch. And she also said earlier that she had donut. 

And then, because this is Michigan, a snowstorm hit the next day. We went from almost no snow to at least 2–3 feet overnight. My girlfriend joined us for church, then we spent the day playing games with the kids and making burritos. Later, we sat on the couch by the large picture window, watching the snow fall hard. It kept coming down the whole time, blanketing everything outside.

When it was time for her to leave, I walked her to her car in my shorts, grateful that my asthma was finally improving after three days on steroids. Still, I knew I had to take it easy to avoid another flare-up. She started her car but didn’t let it warm up long enough to clear the ice from the windows. Grabbing a scraper, she handled it herself.

I noticed my neighbor Dave watching from across the street. I imagined he thought I was a terrible boyfriend for letting her scrape her own windows in the snow. But the truth is, people usually aren’t judging us as much as we think. And even if he was, I knew there was a good reason I wasn’t out there helping—sometimes, when you have a chronic illness, you have to make adjustments to protect your health.

Today is Monday, and my lungs feel so much better. In a few hours, I’ll put them to the test—I plan to clean and organize my basement to make room for a new weight bench arriving soon. My goal this spring and summer is to lose weight and get in shape, which should help my lungs too.