“Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away.”
On Friday night my breath was nearly taken away by an asthma attack. Being unable to breathe normally while frightening is not unfamiliar to me as I’ve been an asthmatic all my life. When I have an attack that can’t be regulated by my rescue inhaler it’s off to urgent care or, depending on timing, the ER which is where I ended up on Friday night.
I try to delay seeking medical help, especially the ER, because of copays, long wait times, and frankly, when I’m not feeling well I can’t be bothered getting all dolled up. As a matter of fact, the extent of my beautification process this go round was eyeliner and throwing on my hair.
Thankfully this ER visit was one of the most pleasant I’ve ever experienced. The staff was uber efficient and the total amount of time for two breathing treatments, a dose of steroids, and a chest x-ray was less than 1-1/2 hours.
During one of my breathing treatments I was so wrapped up in my Kindle, I didn’t notice my brother taking a picture of me in all my glory on a hospital gurney, wearing a hospital gown with the breathing treatment contraption hanging out of my mouth. To his credit, he waited until Saturday when I was feeling considerably better to show me the evidence of his unspeakable crime. Even though he did it to get under my skin I actually thought it was kind of funny and looked at it as an opportunity to share a less than flattering photo.
Today I’m feeling much better and followed up with my primary care doctor who prescribed a nebulizer which will enable me to do breathing treatments at home going forward.