It was a cold November morning when something awoke me. Realizing that it was getting hard to breath, I when for my medication. This was very routine, considering I had bronchitis. But this time it turned out to be no ordinary asthma attack. I was unable to go to school that day because of the continued problem. I was to use my mediation till my condition rendered. But as the hours passed and it got worse, I was rushed to the local hospital's emergency wing. This was where the realization came to me that this was no ordinary day. .
As I was put on a stretcher and wheeled into a room, the feeling of being in a dream of some sort engulfed my senses. I could see my mom waiting by my side holding my hand and my dad waiting for the doctor to arrive. For me this was not an ordinary situation to be in, but according to the doctor who had just proceeded into the room it was a routine procedure. "Bronchitis is a chronic inflammatory disorder causing hyper responsiveness of airways to certain stimuli resulting in recurrent variable airflow limitation, at least partly reversible." This is what my parents were told, of course me being eleven; the only sentence I could understand was "at least partly reversible." I kept that in mind and it started me on my fight. All I can remember after that moment was a sharp pain on my arm, which I considered to be a needle. .
As I awoke from my sleep, the feeling of confusion engulfed me. Seeing a breathing apparatus to my left and a cup around my nose and mouth brought me back to reality. The task of breathing was much better. .
I could make out blurry figures to my right who I accepted to be my parents. As soon as I could make out the outline of my little sister, I knew that I had been there for more than half a day, knowing that she had come back from school. I was just elated to see my family sitting by my side. As the doctor walked in and checked my pulse and said to my parents "he can go home now," relief spread over me.