Image from the Internet  It was a busy Monday morning. We were scurrying throughout the house, finishing the preparations for the photographer. I was carrying boxes downstairs and returning for more, only to take them down again. My asthma began to bother me slightly, but I figured it was no big deal; I’d take care of it in a bit. It didn’t take long for my chest to suddenly become too tight, feeling as though I was being suffocated. I couldn’t breathe; I couldn’t get air. I remember entering my room and digging through my purse for my inhaler. The next thing I knew, I was on the floor, struggling to take a breath to use my inhaler. I couldn’t get the breath I needed; I felt lightheaded and dizzy. My chest hurt, feeling like it was being crushed. I wasn’t getting the air I needed, and I had never been so scared in my life. There had been a few times previously when I’d had a bad asthma attack, and my mom wondered if she’d need to call 911. This was different. Somehow, I mana...