Cough. Catch breath. Wheeze. Grasp for air. Knock out!

...Such is the way of an asthmatic.

I am among the unfortunate minority of grieving Homo sapiens who have the condition called asthma. It's not a foreign term, I know, but most unaffected people don't have any idea how hard coping with asthma is.

And this isn't even a rant, dammit.



Asthma is a hereditary disorder-- in my case, I got it from my mother. It is congenital for most people who suffer it but I got my first attack during fifth grade. My health aside, asthma basically happens when a trigger (usually environmental) causes the bronchi and bronchioles to overreact. This overreaction takes the form of muscle spasms: the airways of the lungs contract (too dramatically sometimes. Ugh.) resulting into wheezing and the inability to breathe normally. Because the air that now enters your lungs comes in very minimal amounts, your heart tries to compensate for the lack of oxygen in the body by pumping blood abnormally fast. Hence, palpitation takes place.

We had CAT yesterday and I'm lucky enough to have officers-slash-classmates who care enough for my well-being. They saved me from...the worst. I was having awful attacks the whole day,  and my inhaler was my loyal companion *haha* throughout my misadventures. (And, of course, three of my close friends whose immune systems betrayed them yesterday.)

So celebrate if you don't have asthma. LIFE IS GOOD FOR YOU.