I swear it felt no more than ten minutes. The silent tears streamed down my face, and I tried desperately to cry out for help. I gasped with my last bit of air before I felt my body slipping away. Shaking of terror in my bed, I tried to scream louder for help but not a sound could escape over my panting and wheezing. 

Earlier that bright morning, I heard my mom yell, “Jacqueline! You need to take your treatment!” So I did. I walked over to the corner couch plopped my body down and began another day full of more treatments. I grabbed the last liquid package, poured it into my machine, placed my mouth guard over my face, and sat there breathing in and out just like the doctor told me to do. The red light flashed to green, telling me that I should take my final deep breath in and remove the mask.

As I ran around the playground chasing my friends, they taunted me yelling, “Jackie! Come catch me!” and “You can’t get me! Na-na-na-na-naaaa-naaa!”  It was tightening in the chest as I laughed and laughed about how I was going to get them. I was angry. I was angry that once again my asthma was getting in the way. I slowed down and went immediately to the office to take my next dose. Just like clockwork, I completed my next treatment as I sat next to the school nurse. As I was taking care of my asthma, she sympathetically asked, “You okay, honey?” I hated missing my last minutes of recess.

“Don’t forget. Memory is due tomorrow and so are your spelling words!” Mrs. McGhee reminded as my class ran out of the room and down the steps, so we could return home. My friends and I laughed and laughed until our rides arrived to pick us up. I sat up against the brick wall alone. Suddenly, the little monsters took hold of my lungs. I felt it. Finally, my mom arrived in the small, burgundy red Grand Am. I hopped in and said, “I used my last liquid pack this morning,” as I wheezed in between breaths,

“Okay, I’ll have your dad refill it,” she replied.

Hours of playing, laughing, and running all around my backyard passed, and I still hadn’t had my treatment. Wheezing and coughing filled my lungs. Nine o’clock approached and still no sign of the only object that was to save me from the monsters strangling my lungs. I lay in bed that night and fought the overwhelming struggle to breathe, so I could fall asleep. I tried so hard. I gripped the side of my bed. I drank what seemed like gallons of water. I coughed and coughed until finally I slipped into a small sleep. I’m not sure how long actually went by, but I swear it felt like no more than ten minutes. The monsters had taken over. My lungs felt like they were being rung out like a wet towel. As I took my last breath, I felt myself slipping away like a faint whisper at the end of a hallway. The tears continued to rush down my face. I attempted to cry out for help but nothing escaped my mouth over the overwhelming sounds of wheezing. 

My mom entered my room and whispered frantically, “Jackie, are you okay? What’s the matter?”  I looked at her with a blank and airless face. I took a desperate breath in, gasping for oxygen to reach my lungs. She knew. She ran to my machine and threw the empty box screaming, “Dammit!”

The five-minute ride to grandma’s turned into a five hundred minute ride in hopes that I could take a few puffs of her rescue inhaler. The longer it took, the more I was losing hope. I felt the presence of my mom staring at me as we flew down the driveway. Fear overtook my body.

We rushed into the house and took two long puffs of my only solution to my threatening problem. The suffocating monsters were now dead, falling off my lungs as the medicine created a slippery coat on them. One more puff came. My lungs opened, revealing oxygen to me like it had been the very first time. I took one long breath and sat back. Finally. Control. Control over my body. Air. I had been saved -- saved by the breaths I could finally catch.