Relative Something

With our society’s drive for lowering the cost of food, and corporations that have a stake in the food industry who are more than happy to take advantage of it, in search of maximizing profits, the American diet has become, as one article tells it, “the elephant in the room in the debate over health care.” At the rate we are going now, even if politicians come up with the greatest health plan possible, it won’t relieve the stress our health care industry is under in dealing with the chronic health problems we bring on ourselves due to the way we choose to eat. And that is only half of our battle.

In addition to the sad state to which our diet has evolved, the other significant aspect of our physical health is our level of activity. Together, they are the one-two punch to our well-being. The daily demands of our 21st century lives just don’t provide the automatic exercise to adequately balance the calories we consume. Putting our bodies to work is something we must consciously choose to do. And it doesn’t come easy, as represented by the physics property of inertia: a body at rest remains at rest.

The difference between someone who, by all definitions, is “athletic” and someone who would never describe themselves as such, probably isn’t as great as our minds are inclined to frame. It just might be similar to the way our minds perceive the speed of  passing vehicle on the freeway. At the moment the car is passing by, it appears to be traveling at a much greater speed than after it gets ahead. Then it lingers in view and appears to be traveling at the same pace as the vehicle it just passed. Our minds tend to perceive the athletic activity as passing by too fast for us to compete. But athletic activity doesn’t need to be limited to athletes.

I like the way Jim Klobuchar expresses this thought: Everyone has an Everest. For inactive people, just becoming active can be as heroic as necessary to reverse a dangerous trend. But, when a normally sedentary person tries to do something active, they immediately experience a feeling of becoming short of breath due to exertion. In addition there is the feeling of being too hot, getting sweaty, maybe a little light-headedness. It’s enough to stop the loftiest of intentions. That’s too bad. Because there is a world of entertaining recreational activity waiting just a little ways beyond that moment of feeling miserable which stops most non-athletic people. I fear that these limitations become established all the way back at school-age phy-ed classes that fracture participants into the two distinct stereotypes of those who have ability and those who don’t. What if we found a way to teach people how to get beyond that first experience of oxygen debt to discover the possibilities on the other side?

I think it is sad, really, that athletes are the only ones that get to know what it’s like. It doesn’t take an athlete to learn how to get over that first hurdle and play active games, even a simple game of tag, and continue to play for a period of time after that first onset of the feelings of oxygen debt. It is a time that you might hear described as having a “second wind.” It is a magical place to discover. It would be a valuable tool in the journey toward optimizing physical health. And we can use all the tools we can get, because it matters what we eat and do.

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Asth•ma | noun |  A respiratory condition marked by spasms in the bronchi of the lungs, causing difficulty in breathing. It usually results from an allergic reaction or other forms of hypersensitivity.

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Way back in December of 2008, I went to my clinic for a physical, to get a doctor’s authorization for my trek in the high altitudes of the Himalayan Mountains of Nepal. I was told, at the time, that I displayed a partial airway obstruction and was then referred to a pulmonary specialist for further diagnosis. It was at the pulmonary clinic that I finally succumbed to the realization that I have an identifiable respiratory condition that falls under the label of asthma. I had been living my life up to that point in unconscious denial. The diagnosis really shocked me. I had never experienced an ‘attack’ of the type I identified as ‘real’ asthma, and never related the noun, asthma, as anything having to do with me. But, in retrospect, I have come to recognize plenty of the simple colds that settled in my lungs as related. Also, there were a few times bronchitis required treatment at the clinic, and plenty of times when I endured prolonged days of intense coughing and deep lung congestion. To me, it was just a cough. I never considered it a version of asthma.

The pulmonary specialist gave me a prescription for two different asthma medications: one to take daily for long-term control of airway inflammation, and then for short-term prevention, a bronchodilator for use prior to intense activity. I began using them right away in hopes of maximizing my chances of avoiding any limitations during the trek, scheduled to occur 4 months later. During that period, I never felt confident that I was able to discern a difference between being on the medications or not. There were periods when I assumed I was benefiting, but at the same time, since they were not dramatic differences, I wondered if I wasn’t just enjoying psychosomatic results. I thought I should do better, so I did do better!

In the end, during my Himalayan trek, I was still greatly limited by my lung condition, despite the treatment. Even though my lungs were compromised, hopefully it was less of a problem than it could have been had I not been using asthma medication. I continued to use the meds for over 3 months after I returned home, but since the results were not entirely clear to me, I eventually tired of the routine and slowly reduced the amount of the long-acting steroid, and then stopped altogether. I didn’t notice a difference.

Until now.

I have come to the conclusion that whatever my ailment is, it is a mild one. I’m a bit frustrated with the prospect of using a daily medication to treat a mild affliction, but given enough time, at least now I have come to recognize the subtle differences that treatment provides. Lately, what has emerged as the most noticeable difference is morning congestion. I have long been aware of the phenomenon that I experience in the mornings, and just assumed that’s the way I’m built. However, after having been off the asthma medications for a while, I have really been noticing the return of morning congestion. It’s the kind of condition which was entirely unnoticed in its absence during the period I was using the medication, but it sure has become obvious now that it has returned again since I stopped.

I’ve learned that there is a lot more to this asthma than just being out of breath. ‘All things lung related’ is a many nuanced topic, indeed.