I have an asthma in me. Well, having an illness like asthma is like having an AIDS : It shall be with you till death due you apart. But different to AIDS, Asthma is not getting worse everyday, but it will get worse in a particular day.

And that particular day is just like 3 days ago, when stresses had been piling up and I slept at midnight. My body, weak by the days of lazying around for 9 months and battered by the merciless cold blown by the senseless air conditioner, finally arrived at a breaking point. And that breaking point is the exact time when Asthma in me rose.

My left lung was suddenly filled by mucus. My breathing muscles had to work hard. My mind goes fogged.
I  <b>hate</b> it when I had Asthma. Besides not being able to breath easily, it’s just annoying to have a feeling of something thick and sticky plugging my lung. Pushing my every motoric muscles to try to purge the mucus only makes the breathing agony got worse. Not to mention the only thing that seems able to purge the thing was some autonomous, painful coughing that cam anytime it choose to come, even during my sleep.

Breathing agony, annoying mucus, impolite obligatory coughing. I simply hate asthma.
Bless people who invented mucolitic.


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