I had another asthma attack at the office. It was awkward and burdensome since I felt as if I were a distraction, even as I hid in my office with the door closed as I nebulized.

Why should asthma bring shame?

When I decided to leave, I was still trembling so much that I tried to reach B to "ride" home with me via Sprint. I couldn't reach her and turned to D. I shouldn't have called him, yet he is always willing to be a knight in shining armor. The most lop-sided relationship in history is most disconcerting. Yet. Well, driving home alone would not have been the wisest decision.

I am convinced that the smoke from that fire is still swirling about the furthest recesses of my lungs. I wonder how many more attacks it will take before I can banish this foe...

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NOTE: The verdict is in: I do not want another moment of traction. The pain in my back exploded anew with each cough during the attack. I am most certain it would not have been so bad had I not spent another 10 minutes strapped into that torture device. Tell me again the benefits of physical therapy?