Breathe Me

Home Remedies

My bus stop let us off about a block away from my house, giving me the extra time I needed to clear my head and think before having to, once again, interact with people. Fortunately, I wasn't coming home to more teenage boys. Instead, it was a quiet apartment that I only had to share with my mother, a forty-five year old widow with a whole lot of love, and even more baggage.

If tragedy had favourites, my mom was on the list. I'm not exactly sure when "the good ol' days" were for her, but they definitely weren't between the years of 1969 to the present because every period of her life was marked with something tragic. Her childhood was plagued by a chaotic home, which led to a call to Child Protective Services, followed by years of hopping around from one foster home to the next.

Finally, she turned eighteen and received the gift of a fresh start at life,landing her first job at a daycare, taking out loans so she could afford an apartment to stay in while she saved up the money to start paying rent herself. Still, money was skim and she ended up buying her meals using food stamps as the bill collectors kept harassing for payments.

A few years down the line, she met my father, fresh out of college and poor as well, but they managed to unite their sufferings in the name of love, tying the knot at a simple church wedding followed by a luxurious honeymoon in the far off land of my mom's apartment.

Fast forward a few more years and, though struggling to make ends meet, they still managed to be doing better off than they started, my parents found out that they were soon going to become a family. I arrived nine months later, punctual as always. However, despite their joy, stress increased too. So much stress, in fact, that my father's heart gave out before I even learned the word 'dad'. So, life found my mom back where she started: alone and struggling. Only this time, she had another person to take care of; and that was me.

You'd think that all of that was enough emotional loss and stress to last my mom 'til she was ready to retire, but no. When I was seven, I almost caused my mother's heart to fail as I seized up and started choking for air, causing panic, fear, and as much commotion as humanly possible. So there began my journey of hospital visits as I was carted off in an ambulance to run some tests. Turns out it was only an asthma attack, but symptoms proved that I suffered from acute asthma, which meant an inhaler wasn't enough. Instead, doctors suggested medication and frequent monitoring, aka a monthly medical bill and frequent visits to the doctor. In an instant, I became, once again, a stressor and a money sucker.

So no, my mother never really did cut a break as far as life difficulties went, though she would never admit that I was any part of it. It's all just a part of life, she'd say. No use complaining about it when you could spend that energy getting past it. And so, that's what she did. I suppose that's why my mom had even made it this far in life. Far enough not only to overcome her hardships, but help others overcome theirs as a call center representative for our Community Outreach Center. It was a job that not only paid the bills and left us living comfortably, but also allowed my mom to keep extra tabs on me, just in case. But she'd never admit to that either. Still, I didn't mind. I liked having her home, especially because when I'd walk through the door I was always welcomed with a-

"Dani, is that you?"

Okay, maybe that wasn't the usual greeting I'd get but still. The point is, she was always there for me whenever I came home.

"Yeah, I'll come over in a minute," I replied, closing the door behind me.

I slipped my bag off my shoulder, placing it on the floor by my bedroom, heading to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. It was all part of my after school routine as procrastinating and medicine schedules do not go well together.

"Mom, you want anything?"

No response. She was probably taking a call, so I just grabbed an extra glass to go with mine, filling the two up with water. Recently, my doctor prescribed a new medication that was supposed to help in preventing future asthma attacks. So far, it seemed to be working, so I was very adamant on not skipping a dosage.