 My chest tight, I stifled yet another cough and struggled to concentrate. But as my breath, which I'd spent all morning hoping would ease, grew dangerously short, I knew I needed help. 'I'm sorry, I just have to step outside,' I told my patient, forcing a smile as I left the room. 'I'm having an asthma attack,' I wheezed to a passing colleague. As they whisked me to a side room and put me on a nebuliser, I felt physically better, but emotionally, I felt mortified. I'd had to stop treating people to deal with my own medical emergency. As doctors, we are supposed to be the heroes who can protect our patients – and I felt like I'd let mine down. And it was all down to London's toxic air – something that is having a devastating impact not just on me, but on the thousands of others in the capital with lung conditions. I was diagnosed with asthma at the age of seven after being exposed to cigarette smoke at a social gathering and having my first attack. Growing up in Plymouth with a father who was a doctor and a mother who was a nurse, it was drilled into me the importance of recognising my triggers, taking my inhalers as prescribed, eating well, and exercising regularly. Dan moved to London from Devon at the beginning of his career (Picture: Daniel Olaiya) But, when I moved to London to pursue my medical career, I noticed that the air itself often made me feel breathless and my asthma was getting worse. Returning to Devon to see my family always felt like a relief, as my breathing was so much better there. I'd only been in London a few years, when I experienced my first air quality-related asthma attack one day, while I was stuck in busy traffic. Luckily, I was in my car and only a short journey away, so managed to get home without needing medical treatment, but the experience shocked me. Back then, I was living on the busy Euston Road, and although I was){kind=link}
NEWS… BUT NOT AS YOU KNOW IT
My chest tight, I stifled yet another cough and struggled to concentrate.
But as my breath, which I’d spent all morning hoping would ease, grew dangerously short, I knew I needed help.
‘I’m sorry, I just have to step outside,’ I told my patient, forcing a smile as I left the room.
‘I’m having an asthma attack,’ I wheezed to a passing colleague. As they whisked me to a side room and put me on a nebuliser, I felt physically better, but emotionally, I felt mortified.