TAKE A BREATHER April 23, 2008
Author Angela Hunt posted something Sunday that hit very close to home. It has nothing to do with writing (that’s why it’s posted under “Endless Possibilities”), but everything to do with me. The blog ‘Confessions of a CF (cystic fibrosis) Husband’ chronicles Nathan and Patricia Lawrenson’s experience of preparing for Tricia’s double lung transplant and their unexpected pregnancy once the call came.
Nate and Tricia’ story caught my attention when I noticed all the posts regarding Tricia’s transplant. You may have noticed the links to the American Lung Association, Barnes-Jewish Hospital and Donate America under my ‘top clicks’ category. They’re not listed because of my philanthropic nature.
Ten years (almost to the month) I started experiencing breathing complications. I went from doing hour-long aerobic exercises to being short of breath after walking 50 yards. I went to the doctor and took a battery of heart and lung tests, only to be told nothing looked abnormal. Eventually I learned to deal with my physical limitations. Two years later, I started a new job (new insurance) and decided to see a lung specialist. Finally, the doctor saw something on my chest x-rays. I wasn’t happy to be sick, but I was glad to have a diagnosis (sort of like when you take your car to the mechanic for that knocking sound). Only problem—the lung disorder was treatable, but not curable. So I started my first lesson in pharmaceuticals and my first round of Internet medical research (thank goodness for Google).
Fast forward to May 2007. I went to what I thought to be a routine doctor’s appointment. I’d decided to try talking Dr. McCartney into taking me off of one of my medications (by now I was on four). He relented after a little begging and sad puppy dog eyes, but only if I took a lung function test and had favorable numbers. No problem. I felt good.
He compared this test with my previous test. My lung capacity which usually remained around 50 percent now hovered around 29 percent. I was given a steroid shot and an INCREASE in medication. Then I heard the words transplant evaluation escape Dr. McCartney’s lips. I burst out laughing. This had to be a joke, right? In all the years I’d seen Dr. M, he’d never once mentioned the words transplant—not even as a last resort. Maybe it was optimism thinking on his part since my condition had remained steady over the years.
Being an accountant the first thing I wanted to know was “who’s going to pay for this?” Before this day at the doctor’s office I had no reason to inquire whether transplants were covered by my insurance. But our omnipotent Lord, who charted our lives even before our existence, knew that all the changes in my health insurance a few years before were for my good. Cigna Healthcare (I don’t normally give shout-outs, but I’ll make an exception this time) had a transplant network. Not only would they pay for travel, hotel and food for me and a companion, but I could choose any transplant hospital within their network. Barnes-Jewish Hospital was close to home and ranked in the top 10 Best Hospital in the U.S. They’d performed more than 800 lung transplants since the program began in 1988. If I needed new lungs, this was one of the best places to be.
I soon found out that you couldn’t just call Barnes-Jewish and request an evaluation. All of my medical records had to be sent and evaluated by the transplant team. I didn’t realize how sick the doctors thought I was until I got the call from the transplant coordinator saying they had accepted me into their program. My appointment was set for the week of August 13 (that’s right, a week’s worth of poking and prodding). Fortunately, I was not put on the national transplant registry. The head of the transplant department delivered the news. “If I were to just look at your test results, I’d say you need to be put on the list right away. But you’re not on oxygen, you’re able to work full-time and you still have a pretty good quality of life.”
Now you see why Nate’s blog had me engrossed for hours. While Tricia (and other transplant patients) is the only person who can actual tell us about the physical, mental and spiritual ramifications of her transplant, Nate’s account and play-by-play posts are a wonderful source of information. I fully believe miracles and divine healing, but it God sees fit for me to undergo a double lung transplant one day, I’ll me able to look back on Tricia’s experience for solace.
P.S. Tricia also has a blog (65roses4pattysue.com) that details her journey with cystic fibrosis and talks about the foundation set up to help with healthcare costs.
My great-grandmother and grandmother have been widows for as long as I can remember. Although grandma (my great-grandmother) only had one child, she helped raise her siblings’ children and always opened her home to whoever needed som’teet (something to eat) or a warm bed. 
My grandmother (Muh) kept her family together after the death of my grandfather. Armed with an eighth-grade education and a strong work ethic, she get up early and catch a ride to the fields to pick strawberries or whatever crop was in season. I’d sit at her feet while she shelled peas or snapped beans and listen to the latest episodes of ‘the good old days’. Muh is eighty-seven now and she does get out much anymore. The stories have started to repeat, but they’re just as entertaining as they were when I was growing up. So now when I hear her start a conversation with “I remember (so and so)”, it’s time to live a little women’s “her”story.
