You open your mouth, but you can’t breathe. Your chest is tight. Your heart is pounding. You feel the perspiration sting at your temples. Something is wrong, but you don’t know what. You sit down and put your head low, but you still can’t breathe.
You can’t breathe.
Your friend rushes you to the hospital. You’re gasping. The nurses hurry you back and hook you up to the oxygen. You suck it in and feel a sweet sense of relief. The air goes into your lungs. Your heartbeat slows. Finally, you can breathe. But still, with worried eyes, you watch the doctor as he checks all the instruments and goes over your stats. Finally, he comes over to the bedside and looks down at you.
“You’re breathing just fine,” he says. “Your lungs are just fine.”
Huh? You ask questions. That can’t be right. Just moments ago, you couldn’t breathe.
“We’ll run more tests,” he says, “but your lungs look good.”
You frown. You’re confused. What’s going on?