Member-only story
Every year — for many, many years — the pollen from North Carolina’s vast Red Cedar ecosystem has attempted to kill me. Of all the pollens in the world, my body reacts to this particular molecule with deadly intent.
The first sign is in my upper airway, my larynx (or voice box). Long before I have difficulty breathing, my voice will begin to deteriorate. A raspy, Kathleen Turner-isk quality will emerge. I feel the vibrations in my throat and know it’s coming.
Next will come the activity intolerance. Last week, I became short of breath when I was swimming. I noted more zone minutes on my Garmin than usual as my heart rate accelerated to keep what little oxygen I had in my blood moving around faster to All. The. Vital. Places. Over the weekend, it became serious as I got winded walking DOWN my stairs.
The cough arrives shortly thereafter. A great barking noise that makes anyone standing near me uncomfortable and concerned. The shadow of COVID is now part and parcel of our world and I rush to assure them I’m not contagious. It’s just asthma.
But soon the cough will lose its oomph as my airway tightens and exhaling becomes problematic. Asthma is an obstructive airway disease. As my bronchi become inflamed breathing becomes work. It’s not…
