How High Is Up?

I can't seem to catch my breath. I'm not talking metaphors, I'm talking asthma. I've been sighing and yawning all day, because it's the only way to get enough air into my lungs. It's very hard to truly describe what it's like to live as an asthmatic. I think it's one of those things no one can understand until they have felt it. (Ha, kind of like this nightmare that's been the last four months of my life.) The best I can do is that it feels like someone has a fist wrapped around your lung. You don't notice it until you try and take a breath, and then you realize that it has slowly been tightening it's grip. And you're breathing, breathing, breathing, and those damn lungs just won't expand. You feel the panic start to settle, and the only thought in your mind is air. It's a helpless feeling. Asthma is one of those non-diseases. It's a disease, but not a Disease if you know what I mean. Like Cancer is a Disease. And Diabetes is a Disease. Asthma isn't quite worthy of the capital "D"- it's kind of ranked down there with arthritis, and acid reflux. It's something that you live with and deal with. But for those of us who are Asthmatics, and those who have witnessed us having an attack--- that's some pretty scary stuff. The only thing that's as helpless as having an attack is the one who is watching the person having the attack. My poor parents come to mind. And Laurie, who I think I have traumatized forever that one night at the beach.
I've fought with my parents since I was diagnosed as a kid. Refused to take my medicine, refused to slow down, refused to label myself as "sick", was mortified when they made a stink at school when my P.E. teacher made me run the mile, refused to go to the doctor and waited until long after I should have.... in some ways I'm as bullheaded as Emily was about being "sick". I guess the difference is in her capital "D", and my lowercase "a".
My point to all of this... I can't breathe. And I don't know if it's the asthma, if it's grief, or a combination of the two. But today I gave in, and gave up, and called the doctor. I'm going to ask tomorrow if she can refer me to an asthma specialist. Maybe I'm grasping at straws and praying that the fist that has been tightening around my lungs and my heart the last few months is just Asthma and not Grief. And maybe there really is a magic cure that will make it easier to breathe again.

But there's a part of me that's afraid I won't ever be able to really breathe again.