Well ... THAT was a weird day.This morning, I woke up with the sole purpose of driving to North Vancouver to have an asthma attack.

I have pretty mild asthma, something I discovered very late in my teens when I headed out west and found myself playing rugby outside in the rainy winters of Vancouver. It's no big deal, except for on those days when the weather is just so, and the humidity is right about there, and my workout is that long and the planets are aligned just like this. Oh, and also on those days when I use my cat to wipe my nose. And even then, it's really only the part where I can't breathe that's a problem.

Now it turns out that, when it comes to sports and doping control, my inhaler is actually a banned substance, and so this year my doctor sent me to get a pulmonary function test so that I would have the proper documentation to show that I legitimately have asthma.

For a couple of years now I had known that I would eventually have to take this test, but I knew nothing about how it all actually worked. Since my asthma is primarily exercised-induced, in my mind I was going to have to show up at some lab full of treadmills, pull on my short shorts and run until I puked, hoping to induce an attack. Or I thought maybe they would have boxes full of allergens and I would have to pull a cat out and rub it across my face while snorting pollen.

Turns out I was a little bit off the mark. My doctor scheduled an appointment at the hospital respiratory lab and handed me a piece of paper that described the test, called the Methacholine Challenge Test:

"The therapist will first administer an aerosol solution which you will breathe in through a mouthpiece. Then increasing concentrations of methacholine in aerosol solution will similarly be administered. Your bronchial tube response will be measured by having you forcibly exhale into a measuring device. You may experience coughing, chest tightness, wheezing and/or shortness of breath."

OK. So let me get this straight. I show up, voluntarily suck a questionable gas known to be a bronchial irritant into my lungs in hopes that it results in a short-term inability to breathe?

Sure. Schedule me in right after I hit myself in the head to see if I get a headache but before my appointment where I will drink a litre of household cleaner to see if it induces vomiting.

The test did confirm that I have asthma, at which point I was turned over to the asthma education counselor who informed me that a helpful trick for coping with inhaled allergens and reducing the likelihood of attacks is to daily flush my sinus cavities with saline solution.

I can't think of a more fitting way to end my day of voluntary self-inflicted torment than to run home and shoot salt water up my nose.