I’m still here ‘against all odds,’ so ‘take a look at me now’

I am two days into another trip around the sun. Can you believe it? I didn’t. I’m still not sure how I feel about it.

On Sunday, Oct. 4, I turned 69. I was 59 when I was diagnosed with idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis (IPF) in January 2017.

I remember sitting in the exam room at Inova Fairfax Hospital with my wife, Susan, by my side. Steven Nathan, MD, delivered the diagnosis clearly and succinctly, but the words echoed in the small room. In one breath, he told us I had IPF and that it was chronic, progressive, and incurable. In the next breath, he told me I should get my affairs in order, as my days were numbered. My prognosis was three to five years.

Without missing a beat, he shared a plan with Susan and me. We were on board immediately. Days clicked by, often blending together.

I was added to the transplant registry in March 2021. On July 9 of that year, I received the call that lungs were available, and on July 10, I received a lifesaving bilateral lung transplant.

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While preparing this column, a 42-year-old song kept coming to mind. Phil Collins’ “Against All Odds (Take a Look at Me Now)” started playing like an earworm.

I did not surrender after my IPF diagnosis, and I’m not about to do so now. I wholly believe that God is not finished with me yet.

I will never forget that someone’s decision to give the gift of life is the reason I’m still here today. I know nothing about my donor except that their gift made a difference. I have written to my donor’s family but haven’t received a response. It’s possible they don’t know who I am, either. I wish they did. I want them to see what I have done with the time they have given me.

In August 2021, before I sent my first letter to my donor family, I purchased a stethoscope. I wanted to have it available in case I ever met them. My donor’s legacy lies within the breath sounds of my lungs.

My birthday doesn’t just mark another trip around the sun; it is the next chapter. Some exacerbations have slowed me down, but none have stopped me.

My latest complications, shingles and foot drop, accelerated our plans to downsize, but they also renewed my resolve to make every breath count. The movers come on Oct. 13. Susan and I are ready for single-level living. As you might imagine, I have been packing boxes, which has stirred up memories of both new friends and those I’ve lost along the way. I carefully packed my lung pillow, signed by my entire care team when I received my transplant.

Writing this piece reminded me of all of you who read my column week after week. Whether you comment often or elect to remain in the shadows, I hope you find a connection to your own journey.

Birthdays, for me, are a time of reflection. I cannot get Phil Collins out of my head. Take a look at me now. Together, we can make every breath count.

Note: Pulmonary Fibrosis News is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Pulmonary Fibrosis News or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to pulmonary fibrosis.