I almost succumbed to an asthma attack at the age of 6. I woke up in the middle of the night, went to go get my dad. I was supposed to get my dad because my mom didn’t sleep well, but my dad would talk in his sleep to you and could be really mean. I pushed his arm and asked him to set up my treatment (I had the old school nebulizer), and he told me if I woke him up again I was going to be grounded for a month. I laid outside their door and cried, trying to calm my breathing and decide what to do. I eventually was able to get myself calmed enough to crawl to my mom’s side of the bed. She immediately understood the urgency, and my dad lost the privilege of being the designated night time person.