Well, I'm not dead, YET!
Though, I was not sure I was going to make it through the night and struggled for each and every breath until the meds kicked in about 2 a.m.. The lungs have been really bad during the past week, the worst of which was when I ended a 14-day stint of Prednisone, which has nasty side effects, weight gain (15-pounds), insomnia, moon face, loss of appetite to name a few. The only upside of this medication is it opens the airways enough for me to breathe easier. Pulmonary Fibrosis makes that I no longer can breathe normally with my chest and Diaphram, but instead, must rely on my abdominal muscles. As this disease progresses, the lungs loose their elasticity and take on the consistency of shoe leather. Essentially, I am slowly suffocating to death.
My prognosis is not good, the docs told me three years ago that I had one to two years to live, but so far, I've beat the odds, though not for much longer the way things are progressing. In that light, my last contribution will be to the University Of Maryland School of Medicine's Anatomy Lab. When I die, my wife merely makes a single phone call to the Maryland Anatomy Board, they send someone out to pick up my old, dead, carcass, and haul me away to the lab. At this point, a bunch of kids in medical school will learn to do some minor surgical procedures first hand, find out what killed this old fart, and after a year, incinerate my remains, place them in a box and send them back to Carol to be disposed of. She said she will have our children place both of our ashes in a grave site we own that is close to home.
Carol had a hip replacement 3 months ago, spent a month in rehab, goes to out patient therapy a couple days a week, but she's pretty much wheel chair bound, though she can get around with a wheeled walker and drive to her doctors appointments. She is scheduled to have a knee replacement in the same leg in March. She will likely spend at least two months in inpatient physical therapy after surgery. My biggest fear at this time is not surviving till she gets back home and not being here to take care of her when she will need it most.
I truly appreciate the well wishes from everyone here on this wonderful forum, and feel gifted that I had the opportunity to meet with many of the members in person both at the Synthzone Jam here and during my travels to the sunny south and southwest US over the years. Captain Russ Lay and I have been in close contact for the past couple years, talking on the telephone at least once a week, and more while his son Logan was in the hospital. I knew a fair amount about Logan's malady, since Cardio/Pulmonary medicine was the field I specialized in when I worked at the University of Maryland Hospital and The Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore for more than 15 years. I tried to assure Russ that Logan would get through this OK, though for a while it was touch and go for his condition.
As Tony said, there are no guarantees about that next second, which is true for just about anything. I guess my only advantage comes from working all those years in medicine, and seeing others die from this disease. I know what the end will be like, and know that the docs will do their level best to keep me alive as long as possible, regardless of the suffering I will ultimately undergo in the process. When things become unbearable, I have a bottle of pills that will end the suffering within a few minutes.
I apologize for not being very active on this and other forums lately, but most of the time I spend going to and from various doctors appointments and taking care of Carol as best I can. Thank goodness, my daughter, Laura, is just 12 miles away, and she now does the grocery shopping and takes care of a few things that need attention around our house. She is a wonderful, thoughtful person and I am so proud of both my children.
Thanks again for caring, everyone,
Gary
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