Only if you want to...

About three weeks a ago I began a long battle with an enemy of mine called Asthma. With medication and many cups of black coffee I had been able to maintain the upper hand in this annual skirmish. That was until yesterday morning. At 4:12 AM I awoke, sitting up realizing I was unable to inhale more than a teaspoon of fresh air. The pressure I felt on my chest immediately caused an unexpected panic which of course led to an attempt to breath in at a faster rate. I fell to me knees as soon as I stood up. I knew what was happening, you see an asthma attack is not the inability to inhale but I was unable to exhale. My lungs were almost full with air...bad air. They did not have the strength to exhale and remove the bad air, making room for fresh, healthy, life giving air. 4:14 AM, in my struggles I had awoken my grandson, Logan. He began to cry, I picked him up out of his crib and held him close. He cried more, I breathed less. Again I fell to my knees. I knew what was happening and I could do nothing about it. I looked for my phone to call 911, but I couldn't remember my address, oxygen was not making it upstairs.

I have had asthma for almost twenty-five years now. My asthma is irritated by allergies to things like perfumes, certain food products and of course pollen. This time of year is quite often very difficult but this attack came suddenly and unexpectedly. Pollen counts have been falling, I am not sure what triggered this attack three weeks ago but I know now that I underestimated the power of my enemy. Because it is not just asthma anymore. A few years ago the enemy formed an alliance with emphysema forming a partnership called C.O.P.D. Now those of you who know me also know that I am a smoker, so I will allow you a moment to wag your finger in my face and call me an idiot, I will take it like one who knows the truth. I just ask that after you are done wagging you finger that you would fold your hands and say a prayer for me.

4:15 AM-I manage to get to my feet and carry my crying grandchild down the hall to my son's room. I pushed is door open  and could only mange to say to whisper his name. I held Logan out and felt him being taken from me by my daughter-in-law. My son asked my what was wrong, "I can't breathe." I said, knowing precious air was being wasted.

The emergency room is but a few minutes away. As my son drove I could feel consciousness slipping away. I spoke to God in thought only, no strength left to talk. I told Him "Not now, I have more to do here." Some of you may not understand or believe what I write next and that's okay if you don't...because I do. I heard a voice tell me "Just breathe, in and out. We are almost there. You will be okay...it's not time yet."

At 4:22 I entered the front doors of Christus Santa Rosa Emergency room. "I can't breathe." I told the lady behind the desk. The next five to ten minutes are mostly blurred, everything was moving quickly. I felt an oxygen tube being place beneath my nose and a oxygen sensor being placed on my finger. I glanced up at the monitor, my heart rate was 67, the O2 reading was 82. As I watched both numbers dropped. I looked for my son, James, I couldn't see him but I heard his voice, he was answering questions another nurse was asking. A third nurse entered carrying the mask that would provide the elixir I craved so badly to strengthen my lungs. She unhooked the oxygen from the wall and tried to hook up the new device. A loud "Pop!" told me that she had not managed to do her job. The first nurse told her she would need to turn down the volume or it would blow off again. My lungs now know they are not only being denied the elixir but the oxygen that had been delivered just moment ago. The nurse tried again, from the corner of my eye I saw the valve fall completely off the wall! What are they doing? Surely my last moments on earth would not be spent in a real life version of a Three Stooges episode. 5 seconds, ten seconds, finally I felt a mask being placed on my face, "Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth." The now confident nurse instructed.

Before the doctor would come in to wag his own finger at me I would experience an allergic reaction to some unknown drug administered through the IV. First my face felt as if it was on fire, I told the nurse, "Something is wrong!" Then I sat up and tried to stand up-she thought that was an unusual reaction-I didn't tell her that I was trying to run away. Another chemical was administered through the IV to counteract the first chemical that had caused the reaction. The nurse said, "This one may make you feel a little funny too, but for just a moment." She then went on to tell me that drug addicts come in seeking a head rush from these medications, I don't know why she was compelled to share this bit of trivia with me but it seemed to make her feel better.

The doctor finally arrived. After introducing himself he asked if I was a smoker. I thought for a moment about lying but I didn't. He stated the obvious, "You should quit."

I did quit once. I have smoked for more that forty years, quitting is hard. I had stopped for five years. And then one morning I was standing beside someone as he lit a cigarette, oh it smelled so good. Two minutes later I bummed one from him. Thirty minutes later I was buying my first pack of cigarettes in five years. Stupid, I know. I said the same thing to myself as I looked in the rear view mirror lighting the second cigarette that morning.

The doctor continued, "There are medications that can help you quit smoking. If you don't you are going to die much sooner than you want to. The emphysema or a heart attack is going to kill you. But the drugs used to help you quit will only work if you want to quit."

I knew that too. Smoking is an addiction like so many others and like so many others the physical addition is not the problem. My first two books I wrote, "Going Numb" and "Addicted to Faith" are about drug addictions and alcohol addictions that both have physical attributes that can be over come with the assistance of pharmacological remedies. Smoking, or addiction to nicotine are just like drug and alcohol addictions, after the physical addiction is easily defeated the behavioral addiction must be defeated...and that is hard part.

"Only if you want to quit..."  I do. Sixty minutes earlier I had been on my knees, unable to breathe, fearing that death was knocking. But that is not the reason that motivated me to ask the doctor for help. (Sadly it would be 4-6 weeks before I could make an appointment with my regular doctor...I have now changed regular doctors.)

The reason I am determined to quit once and for all was also born during the early morning hour, between 4:12 and 4:15 yesterday morning... I could not help my grandson. He was crying, not understanding (he is only seven months new). He needed something that I could not provide. God blessed me with just enough strength to carry him down the hall and hand him to someone who could help him. He will need my help again one day, I want to be there to help.

I do not usually covet prayers for myself but I have prayed many times to God to help me quit. My prayers haven't worked. Perhaps God was saying the same thing the good doctor said, "Only if you want to..."