A little back history, I was terribly ill as a child with asthma. Back then it was considered a death sentence because medicine hadn't caught up. They had some stuff that helped. It was effective enough to keep me going. Numerous hospitalizations. Countless hours fighting to simply take a full lung of air, but mostly it was getting rid of the used air. I could inhale, but couldn't exhale all the bad air, the carbon dioxide and slowly suffocated several times. Even as I write this I'm having trouble breathing. I suffocated, but was rushed to the hospital where extraordinary people managed to keep a child alive through the next hour. That hour led into the next day, then week, then months. 
     I remember clearly being on the gurney laying down on my back as the staff rushed me down endless halls slamming doors open with the head of the bed. My mother jogging alongside looking scared to death and pale with worry. The gurney/bed was surrounded by nurses and doctors yelling at each other, and at me to breathe! Must've been four professionals or more around the bed each pushing the bed with my mom, asking her relevant questions and telling me to breathe. Sad? Funny? Worrisome? Troubling? Exciting? All and strangely none. I remember being so exhausted just trying to take a breath that I fell asleep! Amidst all that ruckus, I fell asleep. Of course this caused them all to freak out and start doing things to keep me awake, such as pinching me, screaming at me, etc. This whole story I'm recounting about this one incident took decades, and yet just moments. My mother "You're turning blue, you keep passing out!" Me, "I'm tired", in my defense, it had been a long day with school and all. This, from what I recall, was very late at night. Past my bedtime. For a long time I lived in a plastic bubble.
      Years of little incidents like this kept happening to me. I just wanted to play.. or, ya know, get a good night's rest. Maybe play with my friends, but there were months spent in isolation in an oxygen tent, like the story of the famous "Bubble Boy". I had to live in bed under a clear thick plastic tent filled with oxygen.. for months. Didn't have my favorite toys with me, but my older brother brought his HotWheels toy cars to play with me. I was so grateful for the company of someone near my age. I love my parents, God rest their souls. They both passed within a year of each other. Mom went in January 25, 2015. Dad went in July of 2016. My point is that they both fought hard to keep me alive. Part of being secluded meant little to no physical contact, few visitors and not a lot of fun. If you're going to survive, you've gotta have something worth fighting for. They made sure to give me plenty of reasons. My truest friend and buddy is my older brother. He'd come visit after school. Also, I remember my friend a best man at my wedding coming to visit as well.
Some of my memories are clearer than others. 
![IMG_2934.PNG](https://steemitimages.com/DQmZqJ7tqE3cQ3kwdP56BzKA25bASa3fJK4pxVpxJXjjk7F/IMG_2934.PNG)
This short story is part of a larger whole that I copied from my notes of my life.
I still struggle with really bad asthma. I was part of a test group that helped develop the medicines we use today, or so I was told.
It's not a laughing matter nor some fiction. People struggle with getting just one more breath and they are charged for that breath, I'm no different. I survived though.
When I was going through this ordeal, I remember the conversation where the doctors said I would be extremely lucky to live to see 13. When my thirteenth years arrived and passed, I knew I had it made. I still had troubles, still do, but it's not as bad as it was.

Thank you for reading along.
Much love, light, and respect,
X


P.S. If you ever want to know what it feels like to have an asthma attack, you can try this.
Get a straw, pinch off your nose and just try breathing out of that straw for five minutes.

Love, x