I'd like to attribute my childhood asthma and chronic middle-ear infections to a toomany of pack-years of Rothmans, but I suspect the bulk of the damage was done by whatever knock-off African stuff my parents were chain-smoking before we moved back to the UK and I worked out how to read the text on cigarette packets.
Like so many things in life, it all came to a head one summer evening on Hampstead Heath, and from then on I was an Asthmatic with a capital A.
It got better when my parents mostly stopped smoking in the house[1], and even more so when I left home and got away from the local allergens. I can still induce a proper asthma attack with strenuous exercise (particularly when combined with cold dry air), but if I stop and control my breathing it goes away, even without Salbutamol. It's the allergies I have to watch out for, as the effect is cumulative, and the lingering asthma will get me in my sleep (or turn into infections). Being allergic to both tree and grass pollen isn't much fun, but then neither is being allergic to your parents. Steroids and antihistamines are my friends.
If I'm not sleeping properly because I can't breathe, I'll certainly be tired and cranky. But I tend to notice more direct symptoms first (coughing, nightmares, scratching my throat, rhinitis).
[1] I was the child who reeked of smoke and wasn't aware of it in primary school. I remember getting really upset on the odd occasion that someone would accuse me of smoking, because I hated smoking with a passion and didn't understand why they were accusing me of it.