Breathe In - Systems Essay

I laugh in between fast breaths. My twin brother and our friends chased each other around a field fearing nothing except failure. Nothing could be worse than getting frozen in freeze tag, I thought.

As my feet hit the ground, a sudden heaviness wrapped around my ribs. Wisps of constriction began to infect my throat, and I notice that following each inhale, there is a noticeable croak. I stop running. Forget being frozen, I remember being told  ‘an asthma attack can hurt you very badly’. I reach into my back pocket, where a blue inhaler hides. By now however, all my friends are familiar with my asthma. They keep playing, my brother nods to me,

“Are you okay?” He twin-spoke, using the noiseless and lucid language that only two people on the entire planet know.

“Yes, just a second.” I reply, taking the protective cap off of the device I’ve used many, many times now. I sit cross-legged in the dirt, as I feel an invisible twine wrap around my throat. I hold the inhaler to my lips, and pump the device twice. Almost instantly, I feel medicine charge down my throat, and rip through the constriction. I inhale all the air I can, again, again, and again once more. I take a moment to stuff the inhaler back into my jeans, and I stand, catching up with my friends.

I cannot remember a point in my life where I was not carrying an inhaler. I’ve always had a weird relationship with it. When I was very young, it was something that I just carried wherever I went. Sometimes, I would pretend that it was something very special, and I was chosen to carry it. As I got older however, I became more aware that this device was made to save my own life. I was first introduced to the idea of death by asthma when watching a news segment where a woman mourns the loss of her husband, who died during an asthma attack. I remember being paralyzed with fear, and very confused. I knew having an asthma attack was dangerous, but I never imagined myself being seriously injured during one.

For a few years after that, I remember becoming aware of the fact that medicine cost money, and ultimately that inhalers weren’t cheap. Most of the time, I was afraid to check the counter built inside the inhaler, which counted how many more doses were left. If it was too low, my parents would have to buy a new one. This made me very nervous, I thought that my parents buying me an inhaler would make our family go broke. I was almost always fearing an attack, not out of fear for my own health, but out of the idea that the medicine I would always need was expensive and would be always be expensive.

After over fifteen years of living with Asthma, I’ve come to the conclusion that there are many others with the disease, and most of them live perfectly normal lives, and are able to enjoy the things they want to learn. This realization helped me grow out of the complex I grew to have, in which I believed I was a sick child who could not do things normally. Truly, you can live a normal live with Asthma, you just need to be willing to do things you’re excited for without fear. As I continue to learn more about Asthma and how it affects me, I understand my own body, and my own world better. I was intimidated by Asthma when I was younger, but as I learn more about myself, I learn how to worry less, and breathe without much worry.