I thought breathing was supposed to be easy,
Nobody said that it would be hard to do or I would feel faint.
Yeah...I have asthma.  But that’s nothing new.
Yet this difficulty was something anew.
I couldn’t seem to get in enough oxygen, it’s supposed to be natural.
I was a bug trying to run from a foot.
The oxygen taunted me and hid from me.

I walked into the living room,
shaking with shock and fear.
Worry covered the sea of faces.
I pondered the ideas...I didn’t know what to do.
Why must decisions be so hard?
My mom called 911 and the ambulance drove down my street,
oh wait...hmm...it stopped at my house.

It was dark, about midnight,
They calmly talked to me as they checked my vitals.
Nothing was wrong,
but that didn’t make any sense.
How could there be nothing wrong?
Did I look okay?

Blood was drawn. I was whisked away through the night.
The ambulance zoomed to the ER,
but it was years until we arrived.
They could do nothing for me as they stupidly stare.
I went back home still struggling for air.

Results were pointless when they said nothing.
Nothing....that seemed to be a common word.

I laid awake all night,
trying to get the evil thoughts out of my sight.

Appointments were made, there was no cure.
Thousands of visits,
Wondering what the answer would be.
Oh….it’s nothing.  Just asthma.
Nothing, nothing, nothing.  I was sick of nothing!
Breathing normal was like gasping underwater.
I’ve had asthma for years.
Trust me...I know what it is!

Nothing isn’t part of my vocabulary,
I don’t even think it is a word!
But something is...it’s all I’ve ever wanted.

There was one doctor who told me I had VCD
What’s that?
Well, apparently it’s Vocal Cord Dysfunction.
When I breath, my vocal cords close.
And air struggles to crawl through.

Only techniques could be learned,
But I yearned for satisfaction.
Yet, I did get some satisfaction.
Nothing was finally gone,
and something was finally here.
An answer was all I wanted,
and I rejoiced as I could stop the worry.

Yeah, I wanted to feel normal,
but I was abnormal!
I would always be different in my own ways.
Breathing was just added to the list that stays.

Frustration was taught to me that year,
with its ups and downs and no reason to cheer.
Life keeps moving whether or not I move with it.
But I continue to push,
through the good, the bad and the mush.

I never look back because I am a fighter.
Fighters move on.
Breathing is something that I have fought,
and I must not become distraught.
For I am a fighter,
and breathing is no match for me.