The last few nights have been blighted by asthma. Lying on the floor, each breath has been a hot, hard struggle. I have become reacquainted with the ragged gulps of air that are never enough to fill my lungs, the sensation of fire crawling across my upper back.
The asthma transports me back the seventies even more than my Nanna’s black and white television, circa 1971 gas stove and choice of brown upholstery fabrics. It was my childhood asthma that extinguished any boyish dreams of sporting glory. I was always cowered by the knowledge too much exertion on the pitch could lead me back to the isolation and oxygen tents I first experienced as a six-year-old.
The fear of asthma putting me back in hospital was nothing compared to the terror that would actually consume me during an attack. As the sense I was suffocating grew stronger, I would find myself fighting not just for breath, but against an irresistible panic. It was not some adult inspired existential dread designed to make children wary of ‘strange men’, it was total locked-in-blazing-building-hammering-on-the-doors-and-screaming panic. Sometimes when the fire of asthma raged in my chest burning up all the oxygen, I would begin to pass out with no certainty of coming back.
During one attack, when no Ventolin inhaler or adult was around, I found myself on the floor, fading to black as each breath was incinerated by the inferno inside. On the hazy edge of consciousness, I encountered a glimpse of self. Even though my lungs felt as is they were being blistered by smoke, my own calm voice was clear: ‘Everything will be OK.’ At that point, my fear was alchemised.
Right now, when panic about other areas could so easily engulf me again, I need to hear that voice. Need emotional alchemy. Need the growing black dog growl to turn to white light hope. Things will be better in London; it is my crucible.
5 comments:
You will; you will hear that voice because you know it is within you, that strength. Remember.
Your description of the asthma is stunning. I'm so sorry to hear of your struggles as a child. That must have been frightening!
As an adult, do you have various medications you take to control the asthma? Has it lessened at all, as you became grown?
Through a teenage programme of meditation and cross country running – combined with the wonder of puberty – my asthma improved considerably. Aside from some debilitating, stress triggered attacks when living with Anne-Marie, I had begun to forget just how bad it could get. These days I have an inhaler for emergency control of the symptoms, but until recently I had not needed to use it for 18 months.
Man. i don't know what that's like, but i remember a lot of nights in the ER as a child because my brother had asthma (he outgrew it as an adult).
I hope just being in London will help.
Cross-country runner? Impressive.
Things do get better and the voice is very reassuring isn't it? I'm looking at diabetes and feel a good sense of calm that soon I will feel like being part of life again.
Man, that Anne-Marie, really, really sucks. Asthma from stress attacks? I hope she at least felt guilty, but from the sounds of it, she did it more than once.
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