Pihl 1

Collin Pihl
Mr. Price
AP English, Period 5
29 October, 2015
Asthma
I was fast asleep in my bed, blissfully unaware of anything outside of the fabrications of
my mind. Suddenly I was ripped from the inviting embrace of unconsciousness. My eyes shot
open and I sat up so fast I launched my comforter off of my body. I could feel as if something
were horribly wrong, but in my drowsy stupor, I couldnt put a finger on what was troubling me.
My intense unjustified panic sobered me, and it was blatantly obvious as to why my body was
sent into a sporadic frenzy. I tried to breathe, but I couldnt force my body to inhale.
I was having an asthma attack. I could feel my throat closing even more than it had prior
to my waking. Tears began to well up in my eyes as I realized the gravity of my situation. I was
alone in my room without an inhaler and unable to summon my parents to help. I had had to deal
with this many times in the past, but I had never been in such an impossible situation. I tried to
call out, but all that came out was a sputtering sob. It felt pointless to try anymore. With great
effort, I managed to inhale a miniscule amount of air. It was a small victory to not completely
asphyxiate while laying on my bed. In between the forced wheezes, I sputtered out another yell
accompanied by the white noise of foam and the sound of air moving through my constricted
windpipe.
I couldnt see past the tears streaming out of my eyes. Thoughts raced through my head
about what would happen if no one came to help. My heart was jumping into my throat. The only
thing I could hear was my pulse exploding in my ears and the infernal wheezing sound that my

Pihl 2
breathing had been reduced to. I rolled out of my bed, in a desperate attempt to try to accomplish
anything at all to help me. A loud thump echoed throughout my house from my body vertically
colliding with the floor of my room. I was desperately afraid that I couldnt continue like this for
much longer. Tears were still flowing from my eyes, every time I tried to wipe them, more just
clotted and hindered my vision. I got up to my feet and shambled over to my doorway. The door
was ajar and light was pouring into the room, illuminating a small triangular strip of carpet.
Relief washed over me as I heard stirring from the room opposite mine along the hallway.
I called again, hoping to draw the attention of my parents. This time, with strenuous effort, I
managed to call out two coherent words.
Mom Dad I half sobbed.
My vision began to worsen. I wiped my eyes but it didnt help me at all. My call had
taken a lot out of me, including the air I had painstakingly collected. I propped myself against
my doorframe. There was no longer tears obscuring my vision. My peripheral began to become
fuzzy and I stared at the soft carpet and tried to regain my orientation. I refused to let myself
stop moving. I looked up from my awkwardly planted feet and looked towards the door of my
parents room.
The door opened and the drowsy figure of my father emerged from the threshold of the
doorway. I looked at my father and he looked at me confused.
Collin? he said quizzically. Whats wrong, buddy.
His calm demeanor was both irritating and easing. My panic didnt seem to be helping
my situation, and I relaxed as much as I could now that help was within view. I attempted to
choke out a response to his question. My brain was screaming all the different things I wanted to
say about my situation.

Pihl 3
I cant breathe! I frustratedly wheezed.
My fathers eyes opened to the size of dinner plates. He hustled over to me and put an
arm around me. He ushered me over to the bathroom down the hall from my bedroom.
Come on, bud. Lets find your inhaler and put you in the shower, he said reassuringly.
I was open to any suggestions that would end this nightmare. Once we entered the
bathroom, the cold tiles awoke my numb feet. I blindly followed my father into the center of the
room. He sat me down on the hard edge of the tub. After that, he began rooting through the
various drawers attached to the bathroom sink. Bandages, gauze pads, toothpaste tubes,
toothbrushes all were immethodically removed from the drawers and strewn about the bathroom
floor. After a minute the rummaging noises ceased.
I looked up hopefully and relief washed over me. In my fathers hand was a bright yellow
inhaler with an orange cap. I leaned forward and desperately extended my hand. He placed it in
my hand. I took a second to awe at my salvation. I was never happier to see this hunk of plastic
and metal housing albuterol. I quickly removed the cap and jammed the nozzle into my mouth. I
slammed down the button on the top of the inhaler. A bitter, pungent taste filled my mouth and
throat. It was far from appetizing, but I didnt really care at that point. I pushed the button a few
more times and deeply inhaled the medicine with each press.
My father wiped the tears that were still streaming down my face. He sat down next to
me and leaned over to turn on the shower. I did not enter the shower, but instead sat on the edge
and breathed in the steam that slowly filled the room. We sat in the bathroom for what seemed
like hours. The mirror fogged up and little droplets condensated and trickled down it. I stared at
the mirror, thinking about all the things that could have been. My breath slowly returned to me,
and it was if nothing had even happened.

Pihl 4
Now equipped the luxury of breath, I returned to my bed. I laid under the warm covers
thinking about what had just transpired. I was still a little shaken up and had a hard time falling
asleep. I tossed and turned, worrying that I might have another asthma attack. I dreaded having
to repeat that horrifying process yet again. But eventually, my worry faded away and exhaustion
overtook me. I slowly faded back into unconsciousness, comforted with the fact that this sleep
would be temporary and that I was still alive.