Toward the end of 2023, I was diagnosed with the familial (genetic) form of Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis (IPF), a chronic, destructive process in the lungs, with a uniformly ‘grim’ prognosis and an average life expectancy of 3-4 years post diagnosis.
Right after that, my house burned down.
Genetic testing was not conclusive, but it did reveal a genetic mutation in a gene observed in only 2 out of 800,000 people tested. The biggest genetic link was that this relatively rare disease was also the cause of my father’s death. And in genetics, family history is still the big kahuna.
Around Christmas of 2024, I began to feel decidedly unwell and was worked up by my local pulmonologist. Eventually, this led to a CT scan with contrast that showed ‘ground glass opacities.’ These indicate increased lung density without obscuring underlying blood vessels or airways. They appear like frosted glass and result from partial airspace filling, interstitial thickening, or inflammation. Before long, I was at Brigham and Women's Hospital in Boston staring down at a lung transplant.
I’ve been told that in the world of thoracic medicine, lung transplants are top of the food chain. They’ve told me that from a nursing perspective, it is the most complex of the transplant surgeries, exceeding even heart and kidney transplantation, which makes sense when you realize that all other forms of transplantation are ‘closed’ off to the outside world. Lungs, on the other hand, have to constantly interact with the outside environment, and all those pollens, viruses, and other bad boys. So things can go south fast.
Lung transplants are not for the faint-hearted, as the amount of work needed to be performed to simply qualify for transplantation is only exceeded by the protocol requirements of the post-transplant life. Martha has been there the entire time, from coordinating visits and lab tests to driving me to pulmonary rehab, being my arms and legs in the early post-transplant days, and being a source of consolation and support when things took a turn for the worse.
Now, at one year post-transplant, I'm happy to report that all indicators, including a recent bronchoscopy (yuck), show no signs of rejection. Must be a reflection of my generally accepting nature. I take a host of medications, all designed to keep me in a permanent state of immune compromise. I think this is encouraging.
The famous injunction ‘In sickness and in health’ has certainly assumed new significance these last few years, as I’ve struggled with my inherited form of lung disease. During that time, The Girlfriend has been the rock that kept me on track to my current stage of healing.
How does one express gratitude for this level of lovingkindness?
The normal procedure to even qualify for a lung transplant, especially at age 68, is so daunting and demanding that I often wonder how we got through it. Well, actually, I don’t.
It was the work of The Girlfriend, my lovely Martha, who worked the phones, the forms, the requirements, the visits, the scheduling, and a plethora of other boxes that needed checking. I was able to get a transplant, despite my age, which I believe was due to my overall good level of health, which I attribute to a lifetime of following my own advice about eating.
In addition to the drug regimen, I take a few of my own products. I'm a big believer in Redoxa, our NAC and herbal formula for lung stuff. You know NAC works because the government is always trying to get it restricted as a drug. Quercetin Plus and ARA 6 Pure Larch Powder round out this part of the symphony. In short-term situations, I take a Genoma Security or two, as its immune activator profile doesn't really involve rejection.
I recently saw a short clip on YouTube of Sir Anthony Hopkins being interviewed on an American late-night television show. The host asked him, now at this point in his life and career, if he had any insights to share that we might have overlooked.
‘Just keep going. Never give up.’ was his immediate answer.
