Barely Breathing

Literally.

I was alone at home, pacing back and forth and no matter how hard I tried, my lungs didn't seem to be opening up. The cough that's been keeping me down for a week or so was slowly clearing up but still there were times when I found it difficult to breathe. The doctor prescribed an inhaler while my breath tests weren't through. Two turns and then inhale. No more than 4 times in a given day. But that night, I had my quota of 4 in less than two hours. I wanted to pop an extra but was too scared that the steroids might actually do more harm than good.

My head was buzzing just as my palms were tingling. You know that feeling when blood suddenly rushes to a body part's that been cut off from circulation? But then I wasn't turning blue so I thought I was still ok. Deep breathing, I told myself. I tried but then to no avail. Rushing myself to the hospital crossed my mind a few times, nope, make that several times, every ten minutes or so. But then maybe this was just me being a sissy.

And then it hit me, I was alone at home. I didn't want to sleep because I feared not waking up. Nobody was at home to wake me up if I stopped breathing altogether. Nobody was there to look out for me. But when I was too tired to care, 4am signalled a halt. Never mind, I'll be ok.