The trip "home," the definition of which is up for debate, is an interesting experience for expats. For those that can travel back and forth to their native land regularly the disconnect probably isn't as acute. For those of us who only get back once a year or less, the experience can be, well, rather bizarre. The more time that passes on assignment the greater the gulf can grow between then and now, here and there. Sometimes, when faced with the reality that this is just an assignment and home will most definitely be over there again, the feelings are mixed. Unless someone's expat journey has been completely negative, we feel a kinship with the new place sometimes equal to or even exceeding our native home. But, for now here we are back in Germany for the time being with at least another year to enjoy it.
Besides all the fun parts about the home leave trip like sharing a drink at our favorite craft beer bars with good friends, enjoying a proper steak, and an early Thanksgiving meal with family, one of the annual events of home leave is making the rounds to all our medical professionals to make sure we're still doing good health wise. I was looking forward to this year's checkup because I had a question.
My last post on here was about a particularly brutal climb that almost did me in. After that I started paying close attention to my performance on hills and during other activities like mountain trekking. It became clear to me that something was up with my breathing. In the past I assumed my complete meltdowns on hills had to do with overall fitness. I assumed I was struggling because I was out of shape. But, as the year passed this excuse didn't seem pertinent. We were cycling every day and during our century training we were averaging 130km a week. Our diet has changed to being mostly vegetarian. My weight and other vitals were in the right places. I was sleeping normal. But, every single time I hit a hill on the bike, a set of stairs, or an uphill track while trekking I started struggling, big time. Off the bike I manage, but always slow way down and need breaks now and then to catch my breath. On the bike, things get bad on those hills. For anything above a Cat 4, I often have to dismount to calm my breathing.
Then, one day we were climbing a hill at a particularly slow pace. We had taken a break not long before for a snack and to replenish our water, but I was in a bad way already. My husband led for a bit, then I took over, hoping that if I found a steady pace I could relax my breathing. It wasn't working. The wide spot in the road was a welcome sight and I pulled over, dismounted, and sat down, certain I was going to black out. When I finally got back to a comfortable heart rate and breathing, I looked up at the hill, the road winding above me. As I did so, a woman went past. On a steel city bike. In khaki shorts and tennis shoes. She was breathing through her nose. That was the last straw. I was mad.
Something was definitely up.
So, I sent my doctor in Akron a note. I have an amazing doctor back in Akron, and having her just an email away is a lifesaver. Thank you, modern technology! Anyway, after tracking my symptoms and performance it sounded to me that I might have been suffering from exercise induced asthma all this time. She concurred with my theory and set me up for some tests when I came back to town.
Asthma tests are something else. You spend two hours in a room with a technician blowing into a tube after inhaling a progression of medications as the tech instructs "BIG breath and..BLOW, BLOW, BLOW!" All of that tests lung capacity. People with asthma will have a marked reduced capacity during the test. People without it will have the same results from beginning to end. When I sat down with my doctor a few days later, she said, "I'm so glad you contacted me, because you totally have asthma!" Apparently, I have had it my whole life, explaining why I could never run the mile in PE or keep up in any sports like soccer when I was a kid, hence being assigned more stationary positions like fullback. I was under the impression that I wasn't "good at running" or that I wasn't "athletic" back then. But as I've gotten older I've realized that being "unathletic" isn't a real thing. My doctor confirmed. She said we choose to be active or not. Sure, not everyone is built to run a marathon or bench 250lbs, but everyone should be able to find something they can do comfortably that keeps them physically fit. If you struggle despite being fit, then there is a medical reason for it. Anyone should be able to exercise.
I don't know what my doctor thought, when I responded to to my diagnosis with, "Oh, thank God!" I can't begin to describe the relief I felt with finally having a reason for why climbing nearly kills me, why I can't keep up in the mountains, why climbing the stairs to the top floor our house has me leaning against the door frame for a bit. The thought of climbing no longer fills me with dread. I know what will happen when I start heading up and I know why. It's not because I'm a failure. I have the tools to deal with it and now the odds are in favor of me getting to the top without passing out. Sometimes an answer is all you need. And, albuterol.
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| The mountains are my favorite place on earth. Now, spending time in their heights shouldn't be such a struggle. |
Yeah, folks, I'll be "doping" when I'm out on the roads. Let me get that out there right now. Along with my patch kit and PB sammies, I'll be packing an inhaler. I've accepted that in order to keep this managed properly I have to reign in my riding when I have a respiratory illness to avoid aggravating the disease (hence why I'm typing this up today instead of HTFU on the bike with this head cold). I shouldn't take up extreme altitude mountaineering either. Sigh. Oh well, I don't have the money for that anyway. But, there is no risk of having to give up the bike. I'm not expecting to take all the local QOMs, but climbing the stairs, yeah, I can do that now.
So, look out, Bavaria, as soon as I kick this darn cold I'll be back. Here's hoping none of you in khakis and sneakers will pass me on a climb. But if you do, let's be clear. My chain slipped.
