I’m only a set in and gasping for air, but I have to start the next. One deep inhale and then I’m off again, rocketing through the water of my school’s Olympic-sized pool. Still, something doesn’t feel quite right.
I lift my head up to grab some oxygen, but can’t. My chest tightens, and no matter how hard I gasp, nothing reaches my lungs. As my vision starts to blur, I stop, pull myself onto the deck, and dry heave, trying my best not to pass out. My coach and teammates know to grab my inhaler, but it never actually helps.
This happened every single time I swam a sprint set for over five years. Doctors had diagnosed me with exercise-induced asthma, and the assumption was that we just hadn’t found the right inhaler. I field-tested around ten of them, and each new iteration came with a bunch of fun attachments to try to help get into my lungs.
Yet, no matter what we tried, nothing seemed to stop the episodes. At least, that was until my primary care doctor realized that it hadn’t ever been asthma in the first place. After describing the symptoms, he asked a crucial question: “Are you having trouble breathing in, or breathing out?”
Asthma restricts our ability to exhale, but it doesn’t actually affect our ability to inhale–I had something else. After meeting with a speech pathologist, I was correctly diagnosed with vocal cord dysfunction.
This relatively new and very rare respiratory illness causes the vocal cords to tighten and close when they should instead remain open, making it nearly impossible to inhale. On the diagnosis sheet, I had checked every single box.
As it turns out, my story is not all that unique. Because the episodes of breathlessness that result look a lot like panic or asthma attacks, VCD is underdiagnosed, and it is commonly found in athletes.
Abbie Decker is a great example of this. While competing in a national mountain biking competition in Colorado, she had an attack that left her hospitalized. Her initial diagnosis was pulmonary edema, or altitude sickness, based on the fluid in her lungs. After several tests confirmed her lungs were not only healthy but stronger than average, her doctors realized her condition had been misdiagnosed for six years. She also had VCD.
Inhalers don’t help because VCD must be treated through vocal therapy and lifestyle adjustments. In my case, I’ve been doing daily stretches to loosen the muscles in my upper chest and back, exercises to loosen my vocal cords, and working on my posture, which keeps my airways open. My regimen is standard for VCD, which can be completely treated when it is diagnosed.
In the end, the right diagnosis and treatment helped me regain control over my body, my athletics, and my life. But the experience has also led me to wonder how many other kids out there are struggling through the same episodes, assuming they are just bad at breathing or too anxious.
VCD is likely far more common than we think–by sharing my story, and highlighting others like me, I hope to help others recognize the warning signs, seek the right treatments, and breathe a little more easily.
