I have lived with asthma from a very young age. Growing up, I struggled with constant colds, chest infections, and frequent flare-ups. School days were often missed, and I couldn’t exercise as freely as others, though I always tried my best to keep up. Over time, my asthma progressed—from a childhood condition to medium/persistent asthma, and eventually to severe asthma. This is my journey, and how I became what I now proudly call an asthma warrior.
In 2017, I began studying Fashion Design at the University of the West of England. During my final year, I started feeling unusually tired, especially as deadlines loomed and my workload increased. The stress of hand-ins made everything feel heavier, and my usual energy was slipping away. Despite this, I stayed active, practicing yoga and Pilates, and trying to maintain the fitness I had always cherished.
After graduating, I moved back home and began working part-time in fashion while reviving my start-up label—a dream I had paused during my studies. But my energy levels continued to decline. I found myself visiting the doctor more frequently, sometimes up to three times a week, and seeing my asthma nurse so often it began to feel like a second home. Eventually, I was referred to an allergy specialist and a lung consultant team, but it took several months before my hospital appointment. Waiting for answers was frustrating, especially as walking longer distances became increasingly difficult.
When I finally saw the team, I underwent numerous lung tests and an allergy assessment. The results revealed I was severely allergic to dust. My medication was adjusted, and I was told to wait another six months. Little did I know, this would be just the beginning of a long, frustrating journey of trial-and-error with medications—some helping slightly, others not at all. Over the next year and a half, my asthma barely improved. I had been told my lungs could be “fixed” and that I might regain my previous fitness levels—but that was not the reality.
Hospital visits became frequent. Severe asthma attacks are terrifying—gasping for air, unable to speak, and constantly afraid I might not get help in time. Steroids, which were meant to reduce inflammation and open up my lungs, became a daily necessity. While they helped, they brought serious side effects: constant hunger, mood swings, insomnia, and physical changes like “moon face” and abdominal weight gain. The comedown after a course of steroids left me dizzy, shaky, and sweating—every flare-up taking a toll on my body and spirit.
Life began revolving entirely around hospital appointments, medications, and managing my health. Weeks blurred into months, but through it all, I kept pursuing fashion. In hindsight, I should have rested after hospital stays, but focusing on my work gave me purpose and kept me going.
By the end of 2019, I had to start using a wheelchair intermittently. Walking longer distances became exhausting, and obtaining a disabled badge gave me back some independence. I vividly remember one exhausting day when I had multiple asthma attacks just after leaving the hospital. I tried to walk a short distance from my car to collect medication but was too exhausted to return. I had to call a taxi and realized then that a blue badge wasn’t just a convenience—it was essential.
My health follows an unpredictable cycle. Some days I feel almost normal, with enough energy to socialize and enjoy life. Then, without warning, a severe flare-up hits. Recovery takes weeks, leaving me utterly drained, with aching ribs and no strength for even the simplest tasks. Cooking is done sitting down, often on a stool, and speaking or standing for long periods leaves me exhausted. People rarely realize that my lungs function at just 60% capacity. Makeup helps me feel more “normal,” but it doesn’t hide the fatigue or the chronic cough that comes with severe asthma.
My parents have always been my rock, supporting me through every hospital visit, medication change, and flare-up. The past year, during the pandemic, was especially hard. Many friends drifted away as I had to shield, and social isolation became the norm. Severe asthma is unpredictable; some days all my energy goes into simply breathing, leaving little for socializing. I now focus on relationships that are genuine and supportive, letting go of superficial connections.
Over time, I found friendship and support in unexpected places. I made two incredible friends online: Sarah, a survivor of strokes and heart attacks, whose kindness and humor light up my days, and Lisa, who shares my journey with severe asthma. We understand each other’s struggles, share laughter, and lift each other during low moments—true highlights in my asthma journey.
Even with all this, I continue to pursue my passions. My fashion label thrives in a home sewing studio, worked around my health and rest. I enjoy crime podcasts and Harry Potter novels, finding ways to escape and recharge. This year, I began a nebulizer trial and was officially classified as stage four severe asthma—the highest level—after having tried every available drug. Some days involve over 14 pills, multiple inhalers, and nebulizer treatments, all while carefully managing energy and rest.
Living with severe asthma has taught me resilience, patience, and the importance of community. I want others with chronic illnesses to know they are not alone. Reach out, seek support, and prioritize self-care. Yoga, meditation, and natural remedies like CBD have helped me manage anxiety and lung inflammation. Two years ago, feeling isolated, I adopted a rescue cat named Una. She has brought joy and companionship to my life, reminding me that small sources of happiness matter.
Today, I navigate life with careful planning, a sense of humor, and determination. My fiancé, Stuart, even decorates my wheelchair with tinsel and lights to make outings fun. I continue to chase dreams, create fashion, and live fully, despite asthma’s limitations. My message is simple: find moments of joy, prioritize rest when your body needs it, connect with others, and never let asthma—or any challenge—define who you are. You are so much more than your illness.
