Rob Maxwell

I walk in the memory of my grandmother, Margaret Maxwell, who passed away from emphysema in 1986 and because I was diagnosed with asthma as an adult.  Even though I watched my grandmother's condition deteriorate over several years, I never truly realized the impact that lung disease had on her life—until something happened to me one day when I was a senior in college:

I was running to class—trying not to be late—and I had my first asthma attack.  What happened after was truly eye-opening: being rushed to the hospital, having needles stuck into my veins, blood drawn from my capillaries, a mask over my face, and all the while, thinking to myself: What just happened?

I had a hard time acknowledging how different my life would be because of asthma.  Another attack occurred before I accepted that my life would be different and that I needed to get on a plan with my doctor so I didn't have to go back to the ER.

When you have asthma, your life is never normal.  You don't leave home without your rescue inhaler and if you do, you live in fear that at any second an attack can hit.  I hope that my story helps people understand how badly I want lung disease researched and cured. 

Thank you for reading my story,

Rob Maxwell