The Little Bird in my Lungs

For the first time in 15 years, I'm using an inhaler. The last time I remember using one was when I was 9 or 10. Maybe in 3rd or 4th Grade. I've been asthmatic since I was (wait for it) 9 months old, but lately, the wheezing got worse especially in the morning when I wake up. Feels like my air sacs (or alveoli) have been punctured that not too much air stays in my lungs despite how deep I breathe.

When I was a kid, it would happen every single month. School authorities would contact my parents to check whether they would still send me back, thinking I've stopped schooling completely, not knowing I was in the hospital. I frequented the hospital so much when I was young that the nurses and attendants attended my Grade School graduation. We would have the privilege of picking a certain wing in the hospital - the wing where all our "friend nurses" would be on duty. It was the privilege only regular customers could get.

As I started taking swimming lessons and got into sports (like volleyball and badminton) when I was 9, the asthma attacks and breathing difficulties started to get less frequent. Until such time when it was just fatigue-induced (instead of being a monthly expectation). Back in high school, my attacks would come during the weeks close to the quarterly examinations. Being the perfectionist and competitive kid that I was, I would study extra hard during these days. Re-reading notes and chapters just to internalize the lesson, or perhaps re-checking my solutions to math problems and working them backwards all night. It took a toll on my health, but not a serious one compared to when I was much younger. Because I've had it since I was a kid, I could easily sense its onset (colds, cough, itchy throat) and preempt it by self-medicating. The prescriptions were always Ventolin Expectorant (10 mL every 8 hours - 6am, 2pm, 10pm), Ventolin nebules (to be nebulized twice a day - morning and night), 2 puffs on the inhaler (every 8 hours, to be taken with the Ventolin Expectorant.)

When I started working, the asthma still comes and goes. And it can be attributed to my neglect on good, healthy habits like getting enough rest (i.e. getting enough sleep on weeknights). It's not really the stress, but it's more of how I tire myself out. And since I've been a self-confessed workaholic especially for the past few weeks, that little wheezing bird in my lungs started singing again. (It didn't help that I flew in from minus-zero Russia to high-heat-and-humidity Singapore.)

So last week, I went to see the doctor. I gave him two options (like any good CMK-er would): either he makes me nebulize or he gives me an inhaler so I can stop the wheezing. He said since I'll be traveling again soon, an inhaler would be more sustainable. I know that most people are not familiar with this device - i.e. I think when they see me using it, they'd think I'm dying. This is why when I use it, I try to be as discreet as possible so as not to get people to fuss over it. (Except in Saturday's Spanish class when the teacher made a joke and I laughed so hard that I ran out of breath and started wheezing.)

I guess it will be my security blanket over the next few weeks until the wheezing is completely gone. I just hate being dependent on something. It makes me feel fragile, and I hate that feeling. (Everybody wants to feel invincible.) It reminds me of how my Dad got sick because he worked himself to the bone. I guess I inherited this from him. And I also remember how I lectured him about how he should take care of his health. I guess when you're enjoying doing something, you just forget about your health. (I wonder if this is what happened to Steve Jobs.)

So yes, Universe. Touche.