When Love Took My Breath Away, But Didn’t Win

My mother passed away from asthma when I was 17. She suffered from severe asthma and experienced three to four attacks each month. In the end, asthma prevailed and took her life.

My older brother also has asthma. I've witnessed him struggle to breathe on several occasions, and it was a distressing sight.

I have asthma as well, but unlike my mother and brother, my condition remained mostly dormant within me, almost unnoticed.

As I grew older, I began dating. At 22, during my second year at university, I met Evans, my boyfriend, who was two years ahead of me in school.

After accepting his proposal, we planned a night out at a lovely restaurant in the heart of town. I dressed my best for our first outing, determined that nothing would go wrong.

But my asthma had other ideas…

We had been seated for about an hour, enjoying our meal and the music. Our conversation deepened, but suddenly, I felt a wave of warmth and my heart began to race.

“It might be love,” I thought to myself, smiling inwardly. But the sensation intensified; I started sweating, and my breath became shallow. I struggled to breathe while maintaining a facade so Evans wouldn’t suspect anything.

I couldn’t hold on much longer. I slid off my chair, clutching my neck in a desperate attempt to catch my breath. That’s when Evans rushed to my side, asking what was wrong.

I’ll never forget the look of concern on his face as he tried to help. His voice grew frantic, and soon, other diners began to stare, wondering what was happening.

Evans pressed on my chest to help me breathe, and then a woman approached us, asking, “Is she asthmatic?” “I don’t know,” Evans replied. The woman continued, “She’s having an attack; let’s take her outside for some fresh air and arrange for a car to the hospital.”

That’s all I remember. I woke up in the hospital at dawn, surrounded by nurses and a man I assumed was the doctor. He reassured me, saying, “You’ll be well enough to return to school tomorrow. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Back at school, I didn’t hear from Evans for three days. When I finally saw him, I asked why he had been avoiding me. He replied, “Why didn’t you tell me you were epileptic? You embarrassed me that night.”

“I’m not epileptic,” I clarified. “I have asthma, and that was my first attack. Please forgive me.”

From that moment, our relationship ended.

I completed my studies, served my time, and found a job—all within four years—without experiencing another attack. I maintained a healthy lifestyle and avoided anything that might trigger my condition.

Then I met Eric. No, he found me. He walked past eight tables at a dinner event just to shake my hand and strike up a conversation. We hit it off immediately.

Initially, I thought, “He’s just a nice guy I want to be friends with.” But a few months later, it evolved into, “He’s a great guy I’d love to be with.”

One night, during a date, he unexpectedly professed his love for me. I knew he liked me, but I didn’t expect a proposal. Caught off guard, I asked, “Do you really think I’m the best person for you?” He replied, “You are. I’ve known you for a while, and you’ve never given me a reason not to love you.”

Hearing the word “love” triggered something in me. The warmth spread through my body, and my heart began to race. A slight headache followed, and then I realized what was happening.

Before I could react, I started gasping for breath as if I had been suddenly choked. Eric was alarmed, repeatedly asking, “Are you okay? Are you okay?” He rushed to press on my chest, asking, “Are you choking on something?”

The last thing I remember is seeing others rushing to our table. I was taken to the hospital and stabilized.

Twice, asthma had ruined a perfect night for me, both times with someone I loved. Strangely, those were the only instances I experienced an attack.

Theories began to circulate: “It’s a curse.” “Your family doesn’t want you to find true love.” “You’re married to a marine spirit that sabotages your relationships.”

My mother had asthma. My brother has it. I have it too. It’s in our genes and couldn’t possibly be a spiritual issue, as my friends suggested. The only problem was the way I experienced the attacks.

The doctor advised me never to go anywhere without my inhaler. I took that advice to heart and always carried it with me.

I went an entire year without an attack. Two years passed without an incident, which meant I had also been single for two years.

Then I fell in love again. Prince came into my life. He was confident, but I was apprehensive. I wanted him, but I worried he might not want me after witnessing an asthma attack. So, from the start, I laid it all out…

“I have asthma. It only flares up when my heart finds something it loves. I’ve lost two partners to it already, and I don’t know who might be next.”

He reassured me, “It’s just a condition. It can be managed.”

Though I remained doubtful, something inside me yearned for him. I accepted his proposal, and we began dating.

We went to the cinema—no sign of an asthma attack. We dined out—still no sign. My heart raced, my imagination soared, yet my asthma remained calm.

Every night, after my prayers, I concluded with, “Dear asthma, I’m grateful you’re at peace, and I thank you for allowing Prince to stay. Let’s keep this new love alive.”

Prince introduced me to his parents. His father was kind, and his mother was delighted to meet me. I sensed their happiness that their son had finally brought someone home.

During dinner that night, his father asked, “So, Prince, when are you both getting married?”

The question caught me off guard, and everyone at the table—his mother, father, older brother, and his wife, along with an aunt I later learned about—turned to look at us.

My heart raced. I felt warm, and then my heart began to race uncontrollably. A slight headache followed, and I clutched my throat, feeling myself fade.

Prince rushed to find my inhaler, but he couldn’t locate it. I hadn’t brought it with me. They pressed on my chest and shouted, “Keep breathing…breathe deeply!”

Easier said than done. I woke up in a hospital bed once more. Prince was there, along with his father and brother. His father said, “Sorry I took your breath away.” I smiled; the way he said it was amusing.

For once, asthma had attacked, but it couldn’t shake the foundation of our relationship. This one stayed.

We got married a year later.

Now, here we are, happily married with two children. I’ve had a few attacks along the way, but love has proven to be stronger. 

 --Alice 
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