Lost In Life

 Wow! Has it been almost two years since my last post ?

I blink and life speeds by at the sound of light ! We can all attest that 2020 was pretty much a blur with a pandemic (darn Covid) and the ensuing panic. For Lung Transplant patients this has been more like another day at the office. We wear masks when in public,social distance and generally take it carefully 24/7.

I had four hospital admissions and five rounds of at home IV antibiotics from April through December. The Pseudomonas in my right lung was rearing its ugly head again, plus pneumonia taking up residence didn't help much either. The side effects of no appetite, no energy and the GI issues made life .... well to say the least.. it was interesting. 

Out of all that, I think the most unappealing was the way mask wearing was made political.  Wearing a mask is NOT political. We do it all our lives. Cancer patients undergoing chemotherapy do as well. So to hear others call me a sheep or tell me I'm wearing a face diaper is the height of ignorance. Remember the old saying. Never speak harshly of another unless you have walked a mile in his shoes. Well, it clearly applies here.

I digress. This blog post is about my push to regain the bit of health I can control. It has taken me three months to get back to where I was pre hospital admits.  My oxygen sats were dropping into the upper 80s. And my spiro was disappointing at best. I had almost convinced myself it truly was my time and I wasn't going to beat this again. 

I made an apppointment with my local Pulmonologist as Telehealth visits weren't working for me at this point. I was losing a pound every two days, getting weaker and the struggle to breathe, I hadn't experienced in decades. I. Was. Worried. My entire visit I wore a pulse Ox on my finger. She noticed right away that once I coughed and cleared my airways, my O2 sats skyrocketed to 97 ! I have been saying this for years. Clear my airways and esophagus and I can take control. A six minute walk was done. At two minutes my sats dropped to 86%. I put on oxygen and once again they went up.

I now have oxygen to sleep with at night. I breathe very shallowly when asleep,. Plus, I have a portable concentrator for outings just in case. The better I feel the less I need. So far, just sleeping with oxygen at night gives me the boost I need to make it through the day without additional oxygen.

So... now to the part that is up to me. And there is alwys a part that we must take in our health. The doctors and nurses can only take us so far.  I was walking around at a wishful 0.5 miles an hour for maybe  five minutes before I had to sit down. I didn't let it get me down. I did something, if only for five minutes. I kept telling myself, soon it will be more. My morning walks are now at 2.5-3 miles an hour continuous for 20-30 minutes plus I stay busy during the day, laundry, grilling and such. Even trmming shrubs ! 

Today, well my mind tried talking me out of that walk. Maybe take a short one it said. No I replied, I'll beat myself up all day if I do. But, you don't feel up to it my mind shot back. This played out in my head until I hit the  halfway point in my walk. At which point I told my mind to shut up,yes my sides ached from breathing, but I was doing this. 

My point is... It's mind over matter, but it doesn't always have to be. Even if you don't feel like that walk or whatever your facing, take that first step and try. Now, my day is brighter because I accomplished that one task my mind tried to defeat me on.

Have a wonderful day and enjoy the good things it has to offer.

And The Fun Continues

     The last month or so has brought about changes and new /old decisions.
I am now also seeing a local Pulmonologist, in case of emergency. This was my suggestion so a physician here will know of my status should I need to go to a local hospital. Which would be absolutely one foot in the grave for this to happen. I have a dreaded fear of my local hospitals, that they seem to reinforce at every turn. If you are an organ transplant recipient, you will agree that your transplant center is leagues ahead of local hospitals ~hands down.

     If I am not blogging much this is for two reasons. When I do not feel well, I honestly haven't much to say. I become a serious introvert, quiet, and conserving my energy for getting well. Plus, who wants to always hear me whine about aches, pains, "I'm getting worse !" on Social Media. To me it's a downer and at this stage of my life something I need to avoid. I understand the occasional, but it is the constant and somewhat depressing outcry that can bring us all down, and not who I promised myself I'd become. I want my friends/ family to laugh, smile and keep me encouraged. I do feel for those who aren't feeling well or facing life altering changes, and I feel very deeply for them. This is just my viewpoint on me. Secondly, I rarely make it to my computer to do much of anything when I feel bad. Since my days already consist of multiple naps, when feeling bad there is usually more napping involved ~ and let's be honest. Would you turn down a great nap, in a cool dark room, covered in soft blankets- for typing on Social Media?

      But I digress. Over the last month, I have found I no longer qualify for a Handicapped parking permit. That was a Prednisone  moment for a few days. Me? who can barely breathe on a good day, no longer qualifies. Sure... that's our wonderful State Legislature and my Senator in particular Nancy Detert hard at work for us.  I spoke with her office about changing the laws back or giving a bit of slack to those of us who must park at the end of the lot and struggle to get to that Blessed air conditioning- and was referred to the Department of Motor Vehicles ! Imagine that, passing the buck when she had a hand in  making these rules tighter.  I consider myself a responsible Handicapped Permit person. On days when I feel good- I walk, there are others who need that spot more than I . However on those days when it is a struggle, yes I need a bit of assistance. Well, apparently not now.

     This last month has also seen a few changes in my health. I am back on my antibiotic Colistin until my Amikacin arrives. Plus who really wants to waste $400 of medicine?  Hopefully the Amikacin will "jolt" my lungs into fighting, well my left lung anyway. I'm not sure if I mentioned this or not, but I have my nebulizer next to my stationery bicycle. So, I must either sit on my bike or ride it , albeit slowly while I nebulize. Great way to psychologically make me exercise- right? I thought so too. I am however very winded when I finish, due to the ride and the Colistin trying to tighten my airways . Plus I am always fatigued and ready for nap #1. Hopefully the Amikacin will change this, update to follow.

     The main event in my month happened yesterday while talking with my Coordinator. She asked if I was opposed to going back on oxygen. That brought about a flood of memories and thoughts.  Opposed? No.. Do I want to ? No  Did I eventually know this would happen? Of course.  We discussed using oxygen while I sleep and exercise. Which is usually the norm in starting use. I used to sleep the sleep of the dead when I had it eons before. AND no massive headaches when I woke up. I breathe shallowly during sleep, I can create a headache. It sometimes goes away after a few hours and sometimes not. I also noticed during my last clinic visit, that walking from the waiting room to get my vitals done, my O2 sat level had dropped to 90 but slowly came back up to 95. We lungers have secret ways to get those sats back up ;)  So this might just help a bit in the long run. We're gonna wait and see if the Amikacin helps with the symptoms, yes the Colistin causes headaches as well and take it from there during my next visit in October.

     I have been hesitant about oxygen, as this is a new step for my husband too. He met me just after my 2nd lung transplant and hasn't really witnessed me being sick. Well the hemorrhaging last year was a huge wake up call for him. Plus, depending on the oxygen I get, it can be noisy. Not really conducive to romance either... We shall see..

     All changes in lifestyle, but nothing that cannot be overcome. I have always viewed using oxygen as giving my body what it vitally needs that I can no longer supply as needed, much like a person with a prosthetic. It  helps keep the rest of me oxygenated and healthy, while the lungs deteriorate. Merely being honest.. I am known for the bold truth.

Oh ! I almost forgot... I will be checking off an item on my Bucket List sometime soon ! I can't tell- after all this is Social Media and can't let "the cat out of the bag" just yet. More to come though !

Have a happy, joyous life no matter your health issues. You are here, and your family and friends are delighted !
   

How Would You Like To Be Remembered ?

      Over the last few months, I've witnessed quite a bit of bitterness in the Social Networking Groups and Personal pages of friends. It has me worried. I keep seeing, "I don't want to die waiting". "I can't wait for my transplant so I can get off oxygen". " I need to be transplanted now!"  More often than not, I see posts filled with bitterness and anger. Is this how we want to be remembered?  Someone who was bitter to the end?  Or do we want to be thought of with warmth and thoughts of she smiled to the end...

Think about it....

After working in the medical field for years and witnessing a variety of emotions from patients, I made a solemn vow that the bitterness would not over take me. I would have no regrets.  One of the best things my transplant center did was stress...
1. You may not get transplanted.
2. You may not come out at 100%
3. You may come out and still be on oxygen.
4. Live your life NOW

I always kept this in the back of my subconscious.

If I didn't get my transplant, well I died trying and gave it my best- laughing to the end.
If I didn't come out at 100% or on oxygen- I would deal with it. It's better than where I was right?

I was also told to not spend what time I had left pinning all my hopes on a transplant. What was left of my life would fade away without me realizing it. I hope others take that to heart.  Too many times we focus on this pain or that ache and not living life.
Life is meant to live- no matter your limitations.. Enjoy your family outings even if from a chair. You are there.. Your family is overjoyed you are there too.
Those birthdays are so important. Many parties show me celebrating with the birthday person on oxygen. I have a wedding photo while on oxygen. This is my life and my memories !

I cannot let anyone take those from me, or not experience them due to bitterness. Refuse to let it consume you.

Point to ponder... If you pin every hope and dream on a transplant- what happens if you don't come out 100% ?

October 22,1991

      It was on this day, 20 years ago I received a call that changed my life forever.

     The time was 11:00 PM. While not usually a night owl, I was awake. I was packing clothes for a much anticipated weekend trip to Orlando. Arrangements had already been made to have oxygen waiting at the hotel. I had been waiting for a lung transplant for 18 months.  Each passing day reminded me I was on borrowed time, after being given  12 months to live. I desperately needed time away from reality for awhile. Each day feeling myself get weaker and requiring more oxygen.

     I remember Mom calling me to the phone. It was my pre-transplant coordinator asking how I was feeling and if I wanted to make an out of town trip. My standard reply was, of course I'm leaving for Orlando. "Wouldn't you rather come to Pittsburgh?" " We have a pair of lungs for you." It was at this point I wanted to hope, drop to my knees and pray, but I knew to not get excited. I could get all the way there and it be a dry run. Meaning the lungs weren't viable after they got in to get them out of the donor.
     After hanging up the phone, I immediately called the Air Ambulance that was supposed to be on standby in Alabama only to find it was not in Alabama but in Texas. This simply would not do. After the pilots got in- the plane fueled and preflight done- the flight alone would be close to 2 -2 1/2 hours. This would put me over the time frame to receive a transplant. I only had a window of 4 hours to get the Pittsburgh, and be sitting for the go ahead from the retrieval team.  Thankfully UPMC had a plane sitting in Tampa that had just returned from taking a recipient back home. I called the original company to cancel and began to get suspicious, he did not need to know where my aircraft was coming from nor did he need the tail number of the plane.
        We arrived at the FBO ( private flight area) and began to wait. Suddenly 3 customs officials came walking in. I whispered they better not be after my damned plane!  They were! Seems they received an anonymous tip that this particular plane had not cleared customs after returning from the Virgin Islands. It had as it was sitting in Tampa. The trauma nurse and pilot both tried negotiating with customs to no avail. They were determined to break down ALL the machines I would need to keep me alive during the flight. The pilot offered to have one of them fly with us to Pittsburgh, tear everything apart upon landing and he would fly him home- we received a negative response to this suggestion too.
        I was slowly watching my chance at life slip through my fingers. I made a decision. I asked for a quarter. I went to the pay phone (yes there were still around) and called the local news station. I chose one that loves stories like this. I spoke with the news desk and mentioned it was a matter of life or death. When the gentleman asked who's I said mine! I told him customs would not release my air ambulance for me to receive a lung transplant and there was a slim chance I'd ever get a call again.  Within minutes, we heard over one of the customs officials radios "Who the hell called channel 4 !" They looked at us and I sweetly smiled, raising my hand and replied "Guilty"
     However it worked we were on our way! I must say that was the longest - most thought provoking flight of my life. Flying through the clouds and reflecting on my life. As we landed it was a rush to get me to the hospital. You see, I was supposed to be opened up and ready for new lungs at 5AM and we had just landed at 5AM.It was a mad dash in an ambulance!
 As we were awaiting for the official "go" I was sharing jokes with the anesthesiologist in the ER.

   Suddenly one of the physicians looked at me and asked " Are you ready?"  I replied " Is it a go ????" wide eyed and hopeful.. He smiled the most gorgeous smile ever - and said "It sure is"
And I was wheeled into the operating room on the biggest adventure of my life!

Never forget where you came from

     As this is the beginning of a very special week for me, I wanted to take a little time and reflect back on a few important times in my life.  My parents always said "Never forget where you came from, this is what shaped  your life".  So as I near a 20 year milestone with my first lung transplant, I wanted to share with you (never seen before on the web) a few photos over the next few days of how I came to be the person I am.

If  you look very closely at this photo, the person in the middle is me. I was in my late 20's .You may also notice that I was on oxygen, my feet using the canister as a foot stool.  In this photo I was already on the waiting list for a heart/ bi lateral lung transplant. I always wore my hair in a long braid because it kept getting tangled in the strap for my oxygen when I carried it.  I remember when I got all my hair cut off , because the thought of 3 months in a hospital with long hair wasn't appealing.  Can you believe no one noticed for a few days!  Everyone was so used to seeing my hair pulled back, they never considered that me- the one who swore to Never have short hair again had cut it all off.

      Even on oxygen I refused to give in. I walked everyday, even if I did not feel like it. Braving the neighborhood  dogs who always seemed to have the fence gates left open. What did it matter? I had seen jaws. I had oxygen. All I needed was a way to set it off right ? :)

     

       I have never forgotten these times. I promised to honor my donor each and everyday and live my life to the fullest to honor her a woman I never knew. She was 34 and we were a perfect match. She also died as the result of a major accident. I used to cry thinking that at her age she must have had small children at home who would never know Mommy. But it is also my deepest hope that they were also told stories of her bravery and how she saved the lives of many!

Today's gonna be a great day!

While this may be great lyrics for a song- The Blackeyed Peas just in case you haven't heard it on TV, I have gotten in the habit of telling myself this each and every morning. I am Blessed to wake up. I am Blessed to be out of the wheelchair. I am Blessed to be off oxygen. I am Blessed my kidneys work and no  more diet restrictions.
Let's face it... I'm Blessed.
Actually we are all Blessed to be alive and enjoying life's good moments and obstacles. It wasn't that long ago I was told (3 times) I was going to die. Those are words no one should have to hear, especially at 17, or 31, or 45 for that matter.
  I actually didn't hear it at 17, my parents did and told me later. So there wasn't much impact. I did know that my life was going to be shorter than most. So I justified it by telling my parents my philosophy:
"If I die old -no one remembers, BUT if I die young, no-one forgets."  This was merely a way for me to put this part of my life in perspective, and cover my nervousness.
 This death sentence was always pushed up each time I hit a new milestone. When I passed 20 it was pushed to 25, then to 30. I guess back then it was all the doctors had to go on. I remember mentioning to my Mom that turning 30 was difficult enough, geez do they have to put a death sentence on too?
   Of course there were hospital visits during all of this. After all, I was a boisterous young adult. Plus I was told to go out and live my life to the fullest. If I died, I was going to anyway. Good thought. I took all this in and did just that.
     Waiting for the first transplant didn't seem so bad. I had all this time to prepare for my impending departure. You might say I had consigned myself to the inevitable. NOW,the second was devastating. To say it was devastating is an understatement. To spend 9 years of total freedom, doing things I never dreamed of and then be told I had chronic rejection was enough. The disease and destruction was so fast I found myself wishing I still had Pulmonary Hypertension. After all, it was easier to deal with.  To be given soemthing so wonderful as breathing, set goals in life, achieve those goals and then .... You get the picture I'm sure.  Oxygen, wheelchairs, gasping for breath, total and utter defeating debilitation. This time was extremely difficult for  me to accept. I was NOT ready this time. Please don't take away what I've so recently learned to enjoy!
   This is the time when I began to find comfort in so many little things we take for granted. Sitting outside in the morning with a cup of coffee watching the breeze blow through the palms, a light rain on leaves, the calm of a glassy lake. I also began continual conversations with God. I've talked with God all my life, now we were best friends talking about everything. He convinced me to use my every ounce of energy and breath to get out of bed each morning. Take my meds. Eat-when I'd decided breathing was more important. God was my support system, my main support system. Most of my days were spent alone, so God was my only friend and He stopped by to visit all the time.  He taught me to look in the mirror every morning, see a face in pain, smile and say "It's gonna be a great day!"
 So with each new hip pain, knee pain, whatever new obstacle thrown in my path:  I still tell myself this every morning. It works.

By the way ...I still love the small wonders around me. Yes even the rain and cold.

December 16,2009

As I was looking through old photos I came across the above photo from "my past life". As I looked at the picture I thought, "Who is this girl, or better yet Where did she go?" What you don't see in the photo, is the fun-loving, nary a care in the world kinda person. The business suits and heels kinda girl. The goal achieveing person in life. Somewhere soon after this photo I forgot how to dream. When your facing the end of your life, dreaming seems fruitless.

This made me think, of how outside influences change us into people old friends wouldn't recognize.

Of course they see the original person they knew inside, only we seem to have lost sight of that person.

    This picture was before I was listed for my first transplant. I was living my life basically my way, working, being with friends from work, going to the beach, enjoying it. But, there were things those old friends never knew.... I was sleeping with oxygen every night, close to being  on  it 24/7. Work was only to keep health insurance and so exhausting I struggled to make it through each day. The chest pain from struggling to breathe throughout the day, was so bad I needed something for pain so I could sleep at night. I knew what was coming quickly in my future. My lungs were deteriorating and a transplant was getting close. Tragic moments like this make us grow up and mature far too quickly.  We react in the only way we know how. Try to maintain a semblance of normalcy and acceptance so everyone else doesn't freak out over your situation. My friends from work were handling my health worse than I was and my concern was for them. One in particular, Vicki made the statement: "You know out of all of my friends I never thought God would take you first." Thankfully He decided I was/am still a work in progress and has allowed me to stay a little longer than predicted.

     Looking at this picture I realize I  miss the old life. I was confident, and energetic in all aspects of my life mentally. How do we find that person again? That one before health issues changed us into a mechanical version of ourselves?  Am I afraid everyone around me would think I've finally lost it, if I started acting like "who I really am"? Probably some, most definitley others. My students wouldn't blink an eye, they've witnessed this side of me during class. My friend Debbie? no. She brought out my old side too many times when we were on a girls day out. I would love to bring out this person all the time, but how? It's been close to 20 years since I was per se "me" all the time.

     "Me" somehow got lost in hospitals, doctor offices, hospitals (too many holidays spent there), medications, wheelchairs (trying to walk again), chronic rejection, surgeries,etc. The real me seems to come out as a defense when I'm concerned or fearful about my future. Sort of "let's live each minute as if it were our last" type of situation. Even though I try to live my life this way each day, I do it for my donors and their families. Now I have to remember how to do it for "me" as well. This way I honor them more than I already am.

   I hope this has helped a few of you find your own "me" deep inside and is preparing to let it free. I am.

A Blessed Weekend

   Well we are in the last day of National Donor Sabbath Weekend. I am also celebrating 7 years with my second lung transplant today. It was 7 years ago on a Friday morning when  my call came in. I had just returned from a trip to Shands in Gainesville and discussed my Advanced Directive, knowing I had minimal time left to live. The phone rang in the middle of the night.  You always get an ominous feeling when the phone rings at night. Something has happened, or a loved one is sick. 
     Somehow I knew this was my call. I was the one sick, but with Gods' blessing and Shands hospital this might change. I remember waking my parents who were visiting at the time and everyone seemed to launch into hyper-drive. Everyone that is, except me. I didn't have the energy, stamina or strength to try. As I watched my parents rush around to get ready for the 2.5 hour drive I began to have doubts. I knew my physical strength was gone, it'd been the longest 2 years of my life, and I wasn't sure I would make the surgery. I also didn't want to waste a precious lung on someone who might not make it, when the lung could go to someone with a better chance than me. As Mom came in to give me a hug (somehow she knew I was having doubts), I asked her if she thought I could make it. This was probably the first time but most definitely the last time my parents would see my resolve falter. I remember she looked at me with all the love in her eyes and said " You can make it through anything, you're strong".  Of course she'd say this, after all she's a mother. But , she was referring to my mental strength, while I was worried about my physical strength.
    I'd been through this before, but this time my endurance was nowhere near what it was in 1991. Chronic rejection is much worse than Pulmonary Hypertension could ever be. Chronic rejection  is tough to endure. It was the biggest test of life I have ever had to endure, and pray to never endure again. Though I know I will endure it at some point. I hope to make it as far in the future as humanly possible.
     While I was questioning myself, I remembered it was the start of National Donor Sabbath Weekend. Surely, this is a sign that this transplant was meant to be. With all my doubts I had to at least give it my best shot at success. So off to Gainesville we band of merry men started.
     The holding area was a beehive of activity. I was introduced to my surgeon Dr. Staples. Yes, this is his real name. I made the off the wall comment, " and you use staples right?" This was my way of releiving some tension. I then met his wife, so I now had Staples & Staples MD... Sounds kinda cool huh?  It was during the wait process I discovered he was concerned with doing my transplant because I had lost down to 90lbs.! Wow, and my scale said I was at 100 lbs. it had been difficult to keep weight on at this point, since I was using all my calories to breathe. I had long ago consciously made the choice between eating or breathing. breathing was mandatory- eating optional. Thankfully the decision was to go ahead with the transplant.
    So today, as they say 7 years later- the rest is history.

Remember : Be a Miracle in someone's life, Become an organ or tissue donor.