Fuck Asthma!

I am tired of fighting my asthma. I really haven't had to deal with it for a while now; it's been a few months since I have had a serious attack. I am convinced that the stress at my job at the pharmaceutical was causing the attacks and literally killing me. I guess it was a blessing in disguise to get laid off along with the rest of the department. Regardless, I am frustrated because this humid weather and the allergens in the air have caused my asthma to flare up again. Unfortunately, on Saturday I woke up around 5 in the morning with serious problems breathing. My inhalers were not giving me any relief so I hooked up my nebulizer (a breathing machine) that turns liquid medication into vapor for me to breathe. The medication helps to open up my airways. After using my nebulizer my breathing got back to normal and so I went back to bed. However, when I woke up again I was having difficulty breathing and so I had to repeat all the steps to get some comfort. I ended up using the nebulizer twice on Saturday. Of course, the medication makes me drowsy, lethargic, and shakey. I couldn't go to work which was frustrating because I actually like my job.



After some much needed rest I felt back to normal by Sunday morning. I wasn't having any issues with my breathing. I got ready for work called and let them know that I actually was coming in as my chef had called the day before wanting to make sure that I would be o.k. and wouldn't die. I told him that I would be fine and hopefully I wouldn't die. I prepared all my work stuff, chef's attire, knife bag, backpack, and headed out the door. Only to find that I was able to get into my car because I left the door unlocked two nights before but I did not have my car key or my house keys. I had to call Kev who was at Game Empire and he had to drive home. I felt bad for interrupting his game but was able to get into the house. On another note, I frequently have to switch my backpack which has my folder where I keep my notes for work with a purse when I am not at work. Well, I left my keys in my purse which I thought I had moved to my backpack. I need to carry my damn keys around a chain around my neck and get the spare key back from a relative. I am hopeless sometimes.



I left the house and arrived in La Jolla and had to park far away in the residential area as usual. I walked down to the restaurant and was able to get into the swing of things. I wanted to be ready and get all my prep work done because I had a feeling it was going to be busy. Oh, it was busy for me and I was slammed in my station for a while and I kept telling myself that I would be o.k. I needed to stay calm because I didn't want my asthma to flare up. In fact, I worked through most of my shift and then it hit me. It was much too loud with the noise from the front of house and the sounds of cooking in the kitchen. However, I couldn't hear my breathing. I couldn't hear if I was weazing. I just knew that I was not breathing normally. So I used one pump of my inhaler and held my breath to allow the medicine to get to my lungs. I counted to 60 hoping it would work but after 3 more attempts I knew I wasn't getting any relief. So the guys in the kitchen saw me using my inhaler as I tried to work still and they didn't realize how bad it was until I grabbed Arturo and led him to the letter I wrote that was posted on the wall. The letter contained all my emergency contacts, my allergies to foods and medications, the descriptions of what happens when I have allergic reactions and asthma attacks, and finally the medications I take daily. I told him as I struggled to breathe to call Kevin; call him at home and then he didn't answer. So then I pointed to the cell phone number and he didn't pick up. Quickly Arturo went down the list and called my sister, then my father, then my mother, and then aunt. No one was picking up. I needed Kevin to take me home; to take me to my nebulizer. Unfortunately, my nebulizer is bulky and large; it would be difficult to carry everywhere. Arturo asked me to get the assistant general manager, Summer and she took me outside to get some air. She got me a glass of water and that's when my phone rang. I was trying to stay calm; I was trying to concentrate on my breathing. It was my mom on the other end and she was scared. She has asthma too just like the rest of my family (my sisters, my aunt, and my grandmother). Clearly, she could tell I was having difficulty breathing; it was all too familiar to her after struggling with her asthma and taking care of my asthmatic sisters as children. She started to cry and I told her that Kevin was coming to take me to my nebulizer. However, she insisted that I call 9-1-1. I finally agreed and that is when Summer took me into the front of house office and had me rest while she called emergency services. I knew I was having problems when I felt like I was going to faint and Summer was worried because she said my lips were turning purple. The fire department arrived quickly and checked my vitals. They also gave me a breathing treatment of Albuterol. It's funny but I didn't have my glasses on and apparently the people at work told me later that the firefighters were very good looking but I didn't notice at the time. The chief joked that once I got better they wanted me to cook for them and that he had some recipes that I should try out. I just gave him the o.k. symbol with my hand. I grew up near a firestation as a child and remember bringing the firefighters apple pies that we made from scratch from our apple tree. My family knew that the firefighters paid for their own food and once we found their pouch of money in a cart at Vons. I remember that my family put more money in the pouch and the firetruck arrived to pick it up. Our nosey neighbor came out to find out what the commotion was and we explained that no one was hurt. I've always appreciated what firefighters do and so I would gladly make these firefighters food someday when I was healthier.



The ambulance arrived and they carried me in a chair up the stairs to street level. One of the firefighters said he liked patients like me because I was 100 lbs and easy to carry. I just laughted. The EMTs placed me on a stretcher and carried me into the ambulance. Apparently, some La Jollans were upset that the firetruck and amublance were on the street. I could tell there was enough room for the cars to get by but the EMT said if they needed to get their alcohol that badly than they neeeded help. I sat on the stretcher and the EMT just asked me some questions. Suddenly my mom popped into the ambulance from the side door. I had no idea that she was so close to La Jolla. The EMT looked suprised and wanted to know who she was; my mom quickly responded that she was "the mother." She didn't say "her mother," and damn she said it with authority. She asked if I was o.k. and I said the firefighters had given me a breathing treatment. She found out they were taking me to the hospital and Kevin, my mother, my father, and Ate Myrna would follow. The EMT gave me another breathing treatment on the way to Sharp Memorial. The funny thing is the EMT saw my drivers' license picture and said that I looked less distressed in the pic. He said that it was a good picture and then he asked about my name. I tried to it explained it was pronounced as She-na even though it's spelled Shienna. I told him it's like Sheena Easton.



He asked," You know who Sheena Easton is?"



I said "Of course."



He asked," How old are you?"



Nobody ever knows how old I am because I look like I am 20 and on bad days 18 which doesn't help when dating someone 8 years older. It looks like the craddle was robbed. Well, I told him I was 27 and then he said that since we both knew who Sheena Easton was we aged ourselves. He asked about my last name and what origin it was from. I told him that it is Spanish but I am Filipina. I told him my ancestor was a monk. I didn't get to add that my great grandmother was Chinese. He asked me if I was a waitress at the restaurant (which was a little offensive to me as I was wearing chef's attire) but I didn't care because I was trying to breathe through all this questioning. I told him I was a cook. He asked what I made and I told him that I make salads, sushi, and desserts. He replied that my boyfriend should marry me just because I could make sushi and desserts. He wanted to know if I make sushi at home and I told him I make Italian. His eyes lit up and he said that my food style was diverse. He told me that he could picture the judge asking Kevin why he wanted to marry me and he would simply say that I knew how to make sushi and desserts. The judge would understand and ask for nothing further and that would be enough. The EMT said that he would date me if I wasn't taken which I found very funny and then he got down to business. He asked for my insurance card and I gave him the San County Medical Services card I just received. I told him I didn't have insurance. He looked at the card and said it should cover everything. He made me sign the palm pilot so that they could be reimbursed for their services. It was weird because I know it was his job but what if I wasn't awake? I had read some articles that it is common for EMTs to get a credit card now if you don't have an insurance card. It sucks because I don't have my insurance through work until January. I've worked since I was 17 and even though I have had insurance most of the time. I was upset that in the last year and half I have been laid off 3 times (what bad luck) and that my insurance hasn't been consistently active. I hope that I can get re-approved for County Medical Services when it expires at the end of September and that I can get my insurance through work so I can start my asthma shots again that helped so much in the past. In fact, the Xolair shots are preventative and help people with severe allergy-induced asthma attacks. I actually have a vial at my allergist/immunologist's office but I don't have the insurance to pay for the visit. I am looking forward to taking the injections again simply because it really improved my condition.



Regardless, I arrived at the Sharp Memorial and they admitted me into the Emergency Room. They got me to a bed and then the EMT communicated all the information he gathered to the RN. They got my vitals and gave me an I.V. Kevin came to my bed with my mother and they both looked at me with that worried look. The doctor came over and said I was still weezing a lot and that the air wasn't ciruclating well in my lungs. He said that they may have to admit me into the hospital. I have had my share of hospital stays this year and for a lifetime. I simply didn't want to stay. So after the third breathing treatment the machine showed my breathing was 100% but the pulmonolgist said the air was not circulating in my upper portion of my lungs. So after 30 minutes I had another breathing treatment of Zopanex. Luckily, my mom, dad, Ate Myrna, and Kevin kept me company. My mom made us all laugh so hard that I was crying. I told them my story about the EMT and I told them about my asthma attacks. My mom said that it sucks the entire family has it. She said that I got here genes and that's why I have bad allergies too. It's funny because my mom and I have both developed allergies to avocado and peaches in the last two years. It's irnonic because my mom makes a great guacomole and she can't even taste it anymore. Unfortunatley, my mom has also developed allergies to many other fruits recently and her friend has a theory that it's the sugars in the fruits. I just feel really bad for my mom. Anyway, after the fourth breathing treatment my breathing got back to normal and I also found out from the doctor I have a heart murmur. My dad said he had one too which didn't make me feel any better. Regardless, I was alive, breathing, and really hungry. I was ready to go home. All the drugs in my system left me drowsy, nauseated, and feeling funny but that's normal. The doctor listened to my lungs again and said I could go home.



On another note, I know that kitchens are hot, humid, and stressful places. Humidity, cold air, and stress are bad for asthma. However, I just want to be a culinary artist someday and I guarantee that this is not going to deter me from following my goals. Every job has some level of stress and hopefully with some yoga, some breathing exercises, and my Xolair injections I will be able to improve my health. I will not let this kill me. I want to live long enough to have a kid, spend more quality time with Kevin, and to finish culinary school. I will embrace life and try to think positively. Asthma will not destroy my life.