Sore throat alerts the asthmatic me. The moment I feel something tears apart in my throat every time I open my mouth, I know what to do: shun cold drinks and desserts, take vitamins, and if necessary medicines. This usually happens when the weather changes and my immune system plummets–through insufficient sleep, or stress.
Having been hospitalized many times in the past for severe asthma attacks, I am wise enough to do everything in my power to prevent sore throat from developing into a full blown severe asthma attack. I do not want to relive the day I am so tired of breathing I would rather want to die. Imagine. The very act we take for granted–breathing–is very hard to do. I have to work real hard by pulling all my muscles together to have that precious, single breath, one breath at a time. If the doctor does not inject me with steroids soon, by the next day, I would be so tired I wished I were dead. But I would still be alive, so angry at God I try not to think about him. Breathing is so hard I no longer want to breathe. Yet, as it is an involuntary act, I keep on breathing. As a result, I suffer against my will–with every single breath I take.
It is this profound experience of helplessness that has brought me closer to my mortality. In severe asthma attacks like I just described, the thought of death is my only consolation. I would say to myself, a little more time. Soon you will stop breathing…and you will be ok.
It is never ok to be alive during severe asthma attack, I tell you. It is this experience that floods the memory during sore throat.
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