Die Another Day

I’m not exactly sure what triggered the mast attack yesterday but it began with mucus suddenly pouring from everywhere. It was as if a spigot had turned on, filling my nose, throat and lungs so fast I barely had time to realize what was happening. Within seconds I was struggling to breathe and had to hit my inhaler and use my Nasalcrom to get it to calm back down, which it thankfully did.

The entire time, I was on the phone with my husband who was insisting I use my epipen but I wanted to hold off on that if at all possible, like always. I don’t want to have to epipen if I don’t “need” to, is my thinking.

As I was laying there on the bathroom floor, waiting for the mucus to clear, unsure if I would survive the next few minutes, a horrifying thought occurred to me: this was exactly how my brother in law died – on the bathroom floor, gasping for breath. He was just 33 years old and had severe asthma his whole life. He had almost died several times from it so it probably wasn’t a surprise to him when it finally happened, but it still had to be scary as hell.

He left behind my niece who was just twelve at the time and they were each other’s whole world. It devastated her to lose her dad like that. I thought of my husband and my own son who is an adult now but he’s sick with this too and needs me just as much as I need both of them./

The thought of them finding me dead on the bathroom floor stuck with me long after I was able to get everything calmed down, and it still haunts me now thinking of it.

I feel like each time this happens and I am terrified that “this is it”, I get a bit more PTSD from this stupid disease. It’s as if the grim reaper himself is always right there, ready to snatch me away.

I’m just not quite ready to go yet…

3 thoughts on “Die Another Day

  1. I’m so sorry you had a mast cell attack, and it’s all the worse when you don’t know the trigger. For years, I would wait through attack, epipen in hand, waiting for it to get *that* bad. Your life is worth most than $60. You can replace the epi, but you can’t replace you. ❤️

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you, you’re so kind. I don’t really know why I have this mental block against epipenning myself. Like I gaslight myself that it’s not that bad, you know? I also hate needles so there’s that lol. Ugh. Sorry you also deal with this madness. Big hugs.

      Liked by 1 person

      • I completely understand! I think most of us were told for years by doctors that we were making mountains out of molehills, so it can be hard to trust ourselves. The needle, too, ugh. Big hugs to you, too. 💕

        Liked by 1 person

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