I took my very first class of vinyasa yoga in a fitness gym about 20 years ago when yoga was getting mainstream. I recall that I liked it, but as I was into rock climbing then, I’d rather spent time climbing during my spare time. When my climbing gym started to offer yoga classes, I started to take yoga about once a week or every 2 weeks.
That was in 2004. That was also the year after I gave birth to my first child. Something about childbirth must have changed my hormones. Since 2004 I started to have asthma again.
So here is my story. When I was a little baby, long before I could even remember what happened, according to my aunt and my late paternal grandma (both believe in Chinese medicine), my mom took me to her parents’ house for dinner one night. I just recovered from chicken pox, and my maternal grandma gave me ‘cold’ soup (not temperature cold but Chinese concept of ‘cold’ type of food) that got me contracted with a respiratory disease. Since then I grew up with symptoms that I thought were normal for everyone. For example, I was out of breath and wheezed often. During winter seasons, once every few weeks I would cough endlessly that my teacher had to pull me out from class and asked my aunt to pick me up from school. I remember countless doctor visits, the steroid pills I took regularly and the many different types of weird Chinese medicine soups that people told my grandma about.
When I was seven, my dad decided to pick up jogging (the background story was, my dad was wondering why he kept losing in badminton matches to his friend. His friend said the key was to build endurance by jogging). My dad thought that might be a good family exercise and believed it could be a way to build up my strength to fight asthma. Against my grandma’s protest because my grandma claimed I was too weak to exercise, my dad started our family jogging routine in the morning. For a few times a week we would jog for half an hour. We would eventually run longer and longer as my parents trained for marathons. I grew up with a good habit of regular exercises. When I was a late teen, my asthma eventually went away.
Fast forward to 2006. After my 2nd child was born, my asthma condition took a worse turn. I remember back then my office was on the 2nd floor. When I went to work every morning, I had to rest on the top of the stairs as I would be panting and wheezing. I had 4 prescribed inhalers, 2 were for daily maintenance and preventative, 1 was an experimental drug that my doctor was suggesting me to try because what I had were not really working, but if I took it wrong, I could die; and the 4th one was albuterol, a stop-gap medicine to use when I had an asthma attack.
The wake up call came when one night I had to take my 1 year old son to the emergency room. He had a cold, but he was wheezing and his oxygen level dropped. At the hospital, the doctor gave him albuterol and told us that my son had asthma. For the many weeks after that night, I would take my son to his pediatrician so often that she said the hospital should designate me a parking spot.
I was desperate. I knew I could not live like this, having 4 inhalers, and seeing my son suffering from a disease that he inherited from me. I was open to suggestions and was talking to friends. One day I was talking to a co-worker, Manish, who came from India. He told me to look up ‘pranayama’, which was, according to him, something people in India did to get cured from asthma. I have been taking occasional yoga classes then. The light bulb came on! Pranayama is the 3rd limb in the Ashtanga yoga system. All I needed to do, was to practice yoga more often and more consistently. That was how I could save myself, and if I were successful, some day my son would learn from me.
I started to practice 3 to 4 times a week at the rock climbing gym with a few of the teachers whom I felt connected to. One of my teachers, Jill Glikbarg, always started her class by telling us to dedicate our practice to something important to us. I would always dedicate my practice to my son.
After a couple years of consistent practice, I no longer needed to use albuterol during winter, and as my prescriptions expired, I stopped renewing my meds. My son was cured from asthma as well, even he was still a toddler and was not doing any yoga or anything form of exercise. Maybe he just grew out of it. Personally I believe it was because of my dedication that led to a miracle. The higher up was listening to my prayers.
These days I feel a little bit panicky. I am no stranger to the suffering one experiences from a respiratory disease. I can’t help but think, I have won the battle from asthma, but what if I contracted corona virus, would I win again? I am scare and feeling vulnerable, but at the same time, I know, there is really nothing I can do except for following all the health guidelines, and more importantly, keep up with my yoga practice.
If you are like me, feeling vulnerable, please know that I am with you in spirit and I am dedicating my practice to all of us who are suffering from fear of disease and death. Let’s keep faith and believe. Namaste.
That was in 2004. That was also the year after I gave birth to my first child. Something about childbirth must have changed my hormones. Since 2004 I started to have asthma again.
So here is my story. When I was a little baby, long before I could even remember what happened, according to my aunt and my late paternal grandma (both believe in Chinese medicine), my mom took me to her parents’ house for dinner one night. I just recovered from chicken pox, and my maternal grandma gave me ‘cold’ soup (not temperature cold but Chinese concept of ‘cold’ type of food) that got me contracted with a respiratory disease. Since then I grew up with symptoms that I thought were normal for everyone. For example, I was out of breath and wheezed often. During winter seasons, once every few weeks I would cough endlessly that my teacher had to pull me out from class and asked my aunt to pick me up from school. I remember countless doctor visits, the steroid pills I took regularly and the many different types of weird Chinese medicine soups that people told my grandma about.
When I was seven, my dad decided to pick up jogging (the background story was, my dad was wondering why he kept losing in badminton matches to his friend. His friend said the key was to build endurance by jogging). My dad thought that might be a good family exercise and believed it could be a way to build up my strength to fight asthma. Against my grandma’s protest because my grandma claimed I was too weak to exercise, my dad started our family jogging routine in the morning. For a few times a week we would jog for half an hour. We would eventually run longer and longer as my parents trained for marathons. I grew up with a good habit of regular exercises. When I was a late teen, my asthma eventually went away.
Fast forward to 2006. After my 2nd child was born, my asthma condition took a worse turn. I remember back then my office was on the 2nd floor. When I went to work every morning, I had to rest on the top of the stairs as I would be panting and wheezing. I had 4 prescribed inhalers, 2 were for daily maintenance and preventative, 1 was an experimental drug that my doctor was suggesting me to try because what I had were not really working, but if I took it wrong, I could die; and the 4th one was albuterol, a stop-gap medicine to use when I had an asthma attack.
The wake up call came when one night I had to take my 1 year old son to the emergency room. He had a cold, but he was wheezing and his oxygen level dropped. At the hospital, the doctor gave him albuterol and told us that my son had asthma. For the many weeks after that night, I would take my son to his pediatrician so often that she said the hospital should designate me a parking spot.
I was desperate. I knew I could not live like this, having 4 inhalers, and seeing my son suffering from a disease that he inherited from me. I was open to suggestions and was talking to friends. One day I was talking to a co-worker, Manish, who came from India. He told me to look up ‘pranayama’, which was, according to him, something people in India did to get cured from asthma. I have been taking occasional yoga classes then. The light bulb came on! Pranayama is the 3rd limb in the Ashtanga yoga system. All I needed to do, was to practice yoga more often and more consistently. That was how I could save myself, and if I were successful, some day my son would learn from me.
I started to practice 3 to 4 times a week at the rock climbing gym with a few of the teachers whom I felt connected to. One of my teachers, Jill Glikbarg, always started her class by telling us to dedicate our practice to something important to us. I would always dedicate my practice to my son.
After a couple years of consistent practice, I no longer needed to use albuterol during winter, and as my prescriptions expired, I stopped renewing my meds. My son was cured from asthma as well, even he was still a toddler and was not doing any yoga or anything form of exercise. Maybe he just grew out of it. Personally I believe it was because of my dedication that led to a miracle. The higher up was listening to my prayers.
These days I feel a little bit panicky. I am no stranger to the suffering one experiences from a respiratory disease. I can’t help but think, I have won the battle from asthma, but what if I contracted corona virus, would I win again? I am scare and feeling vulnerable, but at the same time, I know, there is really nothing I can do except for following all the health guidelines, and more importantly, keep up with my yoga practice.
If you are like me, feeling vulnerable, please know that I am with you in spirit and I am dedicating my practice to all of us who are suffering from fear of disease and death. Let’s keep faith and believe. Namaste.