Stop Saying My Daughter's Asthma Is No Big Deal
When our toddler's lips began to turn blue and her inhalations became bird-like in their shallowness, my husband and I rushed Elisabeth to the emergency room. The physician on staff announced her asthma diagnosis to us as though he had memorized it, as though he were reporting that she had a common cold. She received an emergency inhaler and a week's worth of steroids at that visit — just three weeks before her third birthday.
At her follow up visit with her pediatrician, we received a nebulizer to dispense her newly-prescribed liquid albuterol. The machine sounded like a displaced generator or old motor. It was loud and connected to tubes and a mask that seemed to drown our tiny girl. Our son named the machine "The Breather" — he, my husband, and I alternated putting on the mask and performing goofy dances to alleviate Elisabeth's fears. We created a special shelf in the hall closet for all of her medications.
Friends and family assured us that asthma is controllable and that she wouldn't have to sacrifice much. And, because asthma is common, we were told countless times, "She'll out grow it."
During early rough patches, Elisabeth gradually got accustomed to her routine of liquid albuterol every four hours, and we did our best to minimize the seriousness of that first frantic race to the hospital. We placed her old baby monitors in her bedroom and ours in case she began to struggle in her sleep. It's been years, but I still wake up if I hear her cough — mentally reviewing how much albuterol to give her, which teachers will need to be notified, worrying over the calendar and any events she might have to miss — like the time her choir concert was scheduled outside.
Certainly, our discomfort has been nothing compared to that of my daughter's — though she's been remarkably patient and tolerant of her ever-changing medical regimes as she's grown into the adolescent she is today. Now 14, our daughter appears normal and healthy.
For the most part, she truly is. Not many would guess by looking at her that she has been hospitalized four times in the past three years. Nor would most suspect that she has a chronic illness waiver at school and was removed from her P.E. class in 7th grade, or that she's missed almost a month of classes this year when her absences are tallied together.
For many, asthma is a manageable condition that requires a puff from an inhaler before or after exercise. We are working with a new pulmonologist and Elisabeth's pediatrician to get her into this category of asthma patient — and we're close.
But at school this year, Elisabeth asked to be excused from a pollution advisory day because she was having a difficult time, and her physical education teacher kept urging her to participate. It sent two messages: First, that my daughter was trying to get out of a physical activity. The second was that asthma isn't that big of a deal. Her teacher said,"You have your inhaler, you'll be fine." I couldn't be there to stop my daughter from participating because she felt so ashamed in front of her peers, but I was there for the near week long hospital stay that resulted from her desire, as she put it, "to just be normal and run with friends."
While I 'm nervous about having Elisabeth on the high school campus where I teach next year (I may have spent hours wondering if I 'm helicoptering or abusing some kind of development boundary), I 'm also extremely excited. She recently received the go-ahead to participate in girls basketball, starting this summer. This is a bit of a triumph. Picture my 10-year-old on the sidelines of a soccer field, watching others run and leap effortlessly.
She's been reticent to play sports after being sidelined due to her breathing struggles since elementary school, but that doesn't mean she doesn't long to play. Basketball is an indoor sport and that decreases her chances of having multiple or severe flareups. Her older brother, Andrew, plays on his high school team and I overheard him tell her that he'll practice with her this summer. Perhaps their bond will grow stronger if they have more shared experiences, even at a distance.
Meanwhile, I've scheduled her summer physical and her next visit with the pulmonologist. As the current school year is about to end, I find myself daydreaming about summer. Andrew and Elisabeth will be busy with summer reading projects and now basketball. We'll swim a lot and give our house and garden some much needed attention, and hopefully, at the back of a shelf in our hall closet, "The Breather" will sit untended, silently collecting the dust we work so hard to help Elisabeth avoid.
You Might Also Like
