I'm your person in the field so to speak.
I'm a two time survivor of Chronic Asthma. Brace yourself because this will be a long response but being a survivor, I don't mind discussing the disease. Though I haven't had an attack in eight years, *knock on wood* I'll share with you the majority of my memories, experiences, and yes, what it felt like.
My experiences (The two times where I almost died):
I was born with Asthma but it didn't become critical until I turned two. My parents told me that I was wheezing horribly, breathing open-mouthed and the colour in my cheeks went whitish. They also told me that my lips were bright purple. I was admitted to ER right away; no questions asked.
This was the first time I nearly lost my life, and time was nearly cut short just like that.
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When I was twelve, I had Pneumonia kicked in along with the Asthma attack. So, it was a double dose. I was diagnosed with 'Walking Pneumonia," meaning I had the flem stuck on my lungs probably a week before I was showing Asthmatic signs.
When I went into the hospital, I was in a sorry state. I was gasping for air, wheezing/whistling out of my mouth and nose, severely (dangerously) dehydrated because I couldn't keep food down. In fact, it was so serious that I couldn't even keep liquids down, not even water. Like all Asthmatic, there was an immense weight pressed on my chest, like invisible feet were standing directly on top. To say the pressure I felt was immense is an exaggeration. There is no word to describe the amount of pain I endured when my chest became tight. At that point, I prayed every time that I'd make it and hoped I'd be allowed to suck in one breath of air.
From lack of oxygen, my cheeks were pale, and my tongue and throat were dry and sticky. I mean with no liquids for about two days, that effect will happen. I puked nearly every hour, and finally I told my parents I want to go to the hospital. I needed respirators. I needed IV's and a prayer I'd survive one of the most terrifying times in my life.
In the ER, I was immediately required to breath from a respirator to open up my lungs and allow oxygen to pass through. My treatments were thirty minutes. Because I was so weak, and barely able to hold my hand up for a few minutes, the nurses tied a mask around my neck and I inhaled a drug known as Ventalin or Albuterol as it's called now.
While I was breathing, nurses would try to find a vein. I needed fluids badly and because I was unable to hold anything down, it was the 'ol IV's for me. So, if I remember right, I had at least two IV's in my left arm, (which sucked because I'm left handed. I was told much later nurses use your strongest arm because the veins are easier to locate.) one strictly for fluid injections and the other was used for medications.
On top of all that, I had to wear a lovely 'clamp' on my index finger that measured my pulse. At least my finger turned a cool red colour. It was like I was radioactive or something. So, basically my whole left side was wired, and I couldn't move from my bed. Can we say bed pans?
A week later, eventually they rigged me, where I could walk around, but oh my! It took a solid week (being in my hospital room for two weeks now) for me to regain enough energy to even walk to the bathroom (which was about a couple of feet) without feeling dizzy and sick to my stomach again. Keep in mind, I was in a bed, confined for a week, and when your body's under that type of confinement, its not used to moving about anymore. Headaches, sudden fatigue, and dizziness are common side affects until your body has adjusted.
I'd say, the of the major bummers is hospital food sucks. So, no, it's not a myth. The day they hire a chef is the day I win the Megabucks!
You've probably guessed, but this was the second time, I almost died. And I'll do you one better for your research. The transition, coming home wasn't a pretty picture either. I was out of school for additional week and a half coping and regaining further energy. At home, my apatite vanished, and it was all my parents could do to force me to eat. I also barely drank anything, which is absurd when you think about it! Being admitted in the ER, all I
craved was water. Let me tell you, that type of desire actually outweighed the other, breathing, temporarily. I needed water, instead I was given a cup of ice by the nurses.
Anyway, going off track, and I apologize but a flood of memories are coming back full force. At home and readjusting, I barely ate or drank anything. I simply had no energy left. I suffered from headaches, and slept frequently. We're talking twelve to fourteen hours of sleep! I remember waking up ninish, stay awake for about four hours, nap, stay awake for a little longer, nap and by 7:00 PM, out for the rest of the night.
Standing, let alone walking was an issue for the first three days. Can you imagine a twelve year old leaning on someone for support, just to use the bathroom?
By day ten, or so, I was a little stronger. My apatite came back and I was eating but not on a normal hour. What I mean is, I was still sleeping quite a bit so I missed dinner hour. Still, I was eating though, and drinking a ton of water and apple juice.
Eventually, near the end of the second week at home, I had regained enough energy to return to school but I wasn't allowed to partake in any physical activities that would 'tire me out.' (Very frustrating!)
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Additional experiences:
I have many memories, and I'm not afraid, nor disturbed to share more what 'I physically went through.' In fact, I do enjoy writing about it. It's good to remember that part of life; it allows me to heal since I still carry animosity. That being said, feel free to ask and don't be afraid too. I'm more than happy to share.
However... I feel the need to describe what I've seen in ER. Whether it will help you or not, my memories of such things could help you with how your character reacts.
One memory I will never forget. I was about sevenish, and being wheeled on a stretcher. I don't remember for sure if I was on my way to the ER or I was headed to my room but in either case, my stretcher stopped. I was against a wall to the right, and to my left there was a sign.
Underneath the sign, there was another stretcher identical to mine. On top of the stretcher, there was a boy, with blond hair. I couldn't see his face, because it hung heavily to the left of him. His face was facing the wall. He was bundled up in blankets like me, (I was dehydrated again, suffering from another Asthma attack and for some reason I was always cold when dehydrated.) but I saw a bandage wrapped around his head, with some blood staining it.
I looked up groggily at the sign. I was heavily drugged at the time, so I'm not positive but I believe the sign said something related to X-rays.
How I felt about the boy? Well, I was drugged at the time, so I felt little in the way of emotions. Today, however, I often wondered what became of that boy, and if he survived. He was in the ER as I was, and despite my condition, he appeared to be in worse shape than me.
A bandage around the head usually means brain damage, or at least possible swelling. I hope that wasn't the case, and the boy pulled through. I still hope to this day that God never strayed and watched over him.
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Symptoms:
Any Asthmatic will tell you one of the first symptoms they experience is shortness of breath. The red flag is when you can hear yourself wheezing or whistling. At that point, a smart person will go to the hospital for a respiratory treatment and get antibiotics.
-tightness of chest
-soar throat
-headaches
-unable to keep food/water down/nauseous (usually related to Pneumonia but I've heard Asthmatics can experience the same)
-loss of colour in cheeks or anywhere on the face; blue/purple lips (lips change colour do to lack of oxygen)
-intense coughing/gagging
-very tired
-vision can get blurry
Those are the symptoms I can think of off the top of my head, at least the more obvious or acute ones.
The 411 on Asthma:
I see someone supplied you with a link but Asthma's nature is slowly suffocate its prey. What happens is fluid or yellow/greenish flem adheres itself to the lungs. This causes swelling, and eventually the lungs contract or close up. That's why an Asthmatic will cough initially or become short of breath. Oxygen is unable to circulate through your body at a normal rate, thus the coughing is the bodies way of trying to remove the flem. Unfortunately, what the body doesn't know is all that coughing triggers nausea, and thus Pneumonia can develop and soon enough, puking your guts out. Say "Hello," to dehydration.
The other factor that is a major concern, and why the doctor and nurses were measuring my pulse, is that if fresh oxygen is unable to pass freely, the heart is working double time, pumping what oxygen is left through the blood stream. It's not an exaggeration to say heart attacks are candidate too.
I have to leave for a bit but it's much easier if someone asks me specific questions, rather than me remember a fifteen year span with my experiences with Asthma.
So, don't hesitate. I look foreword to any questions or concerns, and will answer them to the best of my ability.
I will say though before I go, hospitals became my second home - my hell, and unfortunately every time I enter one just for a checkup, my body tenses. When I smell that 'hospital-type oder,' I feel the butterflies in my stomach. There has been at least three occasions where I've felt my kneecaps shake.
I hope I've been a service, and again, I encourage questions so ask away!
-fishr
EDIT:
I have to chime on this one too. Actually, cardio is a great therapeutic remedy for the Asthmatic. It's a common myth to say a strong cardio regimen causes attacks or is responsible for one. Chances are when someone blames cardio on 'Asthma attacks' it's more likely related to being out of shape. However, I have been told not to indulge in physical activities (such as basketball) in school, not because of loss of air but using precious energy after returning from the hospital.
Any type of cardio exercise actually does wonders because not only does it help condition you, the cardio workout strengthens the lung capacity for oxygen. In other words, cardio exercises keeps lungs healthy, happy and strong. It's the same concept for weight lifting. Weights strengthen and keep muscles toned, same as cardio.
In fact, I ride my bike ten to fifteen miles, at least once a day, and no attacks for many years.