Rumble In Chest When Breathing Novels & Stories

Even my own heartbeat pounds against my eardrums, a frantic, unbearable thudding that drowns out sense. My breath stutters, catches, and I drag in a gasp that rasps against my throat like torn paper. But it's not enough. There’s no space left in my chest. My lungs have forgotten how to expand. The silk bodice of my gown is suddenly a vise, squeezing tighter, tighter, as though it’s laced by unseen hands determined to crush the air out of me.

Every time I tried to breathe deeply, it made me cough. I sat there shaking, unable to stop crying. Tears ran down my face, warm and constant. My body kept trembling as sobs came out of me, starting deep in my chest and rising until my whole body shook. Each breath I took came in sharp, uneven gasps, and it hurt my ribs.

That was good. When I took a breath, I felt it about as much as if there was a straw lodge between my lips, and Lauren's face started going in circles while a wrinkle formed between her brows. I clutched my chest and I couldn’t feel myself breathing. The little air that entered was shallow and my heart was racing like it wanted to escape through my ribs. Trixy was whimpering in my mind, her sounds caused my temples to throb in pain and my legs were folding beneath me.

My stomach inflated and deflated with each cough as he kicked me hard in my lower abdomen. “Dad." My voice came out as a silent whisper this time as my hands shook, traveling to my stomach to hold onto it. A double gasp tore from my throat, each one punctuating my sobs as my chest heaved up and down, each very air being squeezed out of my lungs. My heart thrummed in my chest, my pulse drumming in my throat. I swallowed, unable to hear anything but my pulse.

I make it halfway down the mountain before I have to stop. Not because I'm tired, but because my hands won't stop shaking and my breath is coming in short, painful gasps that have nothing to do with exertion. I sink onto a fallen log beside the trail, head between my knees, trying to remember the breathing exercises Dr. Chen taught me for moments exactly like this. Four counts in. Hold for seven. Eight counts out. It doesn't work. Nothing works except the anger burning through my chest like acid.

Ken struggled to steady his breathing, clutching his chest as the panic attack gripped him. His vision blurred, and he felt like he was suffocating. "It's okay, it's okay," he whispered to himself, rocking slightly on the spot, trying to calm down. He repeated the words like a mantra, but they did little to soothe him.

I haven't even had the opportunity to contact Samuel yet. Someone yells something and before I know, something's clamped over my nose and mouth. I can still breathe? Right? What's the fuss about then? My lungs constrict painfully as I try to take a deep breath and prove to myself that these people are just being dramatic. What's going on? My head feels like a thousand and one pins have been inserted in my chest... there's just this burning feeling that won't go away. "His heart's quivering, someone get me a defibrillator!"

A dull ache bloomed beneath my ribs before creeping upward into my chest. I shifted slightly in my chair. "Mrs. Adams?" Marissa looked up. "You okay?” "I'm fine.” I reached for the glass of water on my desk, but halfway there my fingers trembled and the glass rattled softly against the table. Marissa frowned. “Are you sure you're okay ma'am?” I forced a smile. "I just need a minute." I took another breath and this one caught painfully halfway through. My lungs suddenly felt heavier, as though someone had wrapped a tight band around my chest.

The way I had been breathing through difficult things for two years. It wasn't working. The thing that happened was not something I had experienced in exactly this way before. It started in my chest, a tightening that went beyond the normal tightening of anxiety, the kind that felt structural, like something load-bearing was shifting. Then my hands. The trembling that started in the fingers and moved up through the wrists and would not stop regardless of how still I tried to hold them. Then my breathing, which had been my reliable tool through everything, the in through the nose and out through the mouth, stopped cooperating. Each breath felt shorter than the one before it and the room, whic

TWO YEARS LATER. She heavily inhaled a refreshing amount of air and slowly drew them out. Her palm reached for her chest once again to feel her heat beat, hoping the breathing exercise had calmed her down; however, it did not work at all. It seemed to have worsened her palpitations. Her heart was still drumming wildly beneath her ribcage, and it felt like each time she took in air, it only aggravated her condition further. There was no time to waste so she decided to try a different approach to treating her momentary anxiety.