Heroic True-Life
I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for my little girl!
Kayleigh Robus, 31, from West Sussex
Putting my little girl to bed, I dropped a few granules straight into her mouth. ‘Yum,’ Imogen, then three, smiled.
Just like me, she suffered from asthma, and the granules were to help her sleep at night.
Although, I think she just thought they were sweets!
Having suffered from asthma since I was five, as soon as she began to show symptoms at the age of two, I took her to the doctor.
Knowing how bad my own can be, I wanted to get it under control as quickly as possible.
Unfortunately, I was diagnosed with brittle asthma around eight years ago, making me more susceptible to attacks.
It’s been hard, but I always hid my condition from Imogen.
Me and my husband Michael, 31, didn’t want her to see how bad it can be.
Sadly though, it meant I couldn’t take her to the likes of Bonfire Night as smoke is a particularly bad trigger for my attacks.
So, although she was then only three, she understood that Mummy struggled to breathe sometimes, and she might, too.
She never asked any questions. She just went along with it.
However, hiding my asthma wasn’t so easy.
For the past eight years, I’d had countless hospital trips and needed steroids and nebulizers.
But thankfully, for most of my attacks, Imogen was at nursery or Michael was at home to keep her from seeing.
Only, on 7 June 2021, Imogen and I were playing in the garden, when a neighbour started a bonfire.
‘Come on, inside,’ I told Imogen as soon as I noticed.
Always one to do as she’s told, she rushed inside.
I thought I’d caught it in time, and quickly took a few puffs of my inhaler just in case.
But shutting the patio doors, I could already feel my chest beginning to close on me.
With Michael at work, Imogen and I sat on the sofa to watch TV. I tried to concentrate on my breathing, but my inhaler wasn’t working at all.
Remaining calm, I tried to breathe on my own.
Only, within half an hour, it felt like a ton of bricks had been dropped on my chest and I couldn’t get any air in or out.
Desperate, I began to make grunting noises.
‘Mummy, you need to have your inhaler,’ Imogen said, leaning over to check on me.
With a brown one herself, she knew what they were and told me to keep puffing.
Looking at her, I could see she was scared, but I could hardly speak.
I didn’t know what to do.
She had never seen me this bad before.
Wheezing, I tried to speak, but nothing would come out.
I could see in her eyes how scared she was.
‘Mummy, should I call that number?’ she asked me.
We’d never taught her to call 999 – was that w
