Recent snowfall reminds me of how I’ve had to accept limitations
I once had to watch my wife shovel the white stuff from our driveway

Winter storm warning. Those three simple words never bothered me much until I was diagnosed with idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis (IPF). Afterward, those words defeated me. They were an indication of things I could no longer do. Snow, especially deep snow, was too much for me.
That all came back to me this past week, when we had a winter storm warning here in Virginia. The forecast called for up to 10 inches of wet snow. It wasn’t a blizzard or the storm of the century, but it did trigger a memory.
I went through a winter storm before I had my bilateral lung transplant, when I was on oxygen. While I was able to walk each day for exercise, shoveling snow quickly brought on exhaustion and breathlessness. That was embarrassing to me. To make matters worse, our driveway is sloped and just under 100 yards long. My wife, Susan, didn’t hesitate to take over the responsibility.
As Susan was shoveling snow, I was there to provide encouragement. She never once complained. My additional responsibility was to move our vehicle to make her job easier. I’d moved my truck, set the parking brake, and returned to where Susan was shoveling. At that moment, we both turned toward the sound of my truck sliding down the driveway. It left the pavement and slid through a flower bed. It stopped when the front tire came to rest on the retaining wall.
I don’t know why this winter storm stirred up that memory. We added a Polaris Ranger utility vehicle to the inventory and outfitted it with a plow blade shortly after the storm when my truck slid down the driveway.

My truck, the retaining wall, and the Ranger at the ready to move snow. Lesson learned. (Photo by Sam Kirton)
Accepting limitations
I tried to learn as much as I could about IPF after my diagnosis. I knew that as my disease progressed, I’d lose ability to carry out daily tasks, and as those tasks grew in number, I’d have to learn to accept help graciously. I’d have to give up gardening, for instance. Working in the dirt isn’t advised for IPF patients. I suppose that the loss isn’t such a big deal, given that even the deer wouldn’t even eat what I’d been growing.
Susan took over many of those tasks, including snow removal, without a word of protest. It didn’t matter what the task was. I knew I had to accept my role, and I had to accept it graciously. I learned that my job was to take care of my health and do everything in my power to beat IPF. Pride would wait.
Susan also embraced her role as a caregiver without hesitation.
The next chapter
We’re in the next chapter now. My bilateral lung transplant was in July 2021, and it kept me in the hospital for 10 days before I returned to our temporary apartment nearby. The list of things I couldn’t do that first year after transplant was long. Driving wasn’t allowed those first several weeks because of my sternotomy. The recommendation was to ride as a passenger in the back seat with a pillow between me and the seat belt. An airbag’s impact could be catastrophic.
One of my primary responsibilities today is caring for my lungs. I’ve come to terms with the day-to-day tasks I shouldn’t do. But I used the snow plow on the driveway in this recent storm, and I could remove it from all the walkways and steps with my hands and a shovel.
While I’m not sure what triggered the memory of my truck sliding down the driveway, it reminded me how grateful I am for my caregiver. Setting aside my pride and accepting the limitations that go along with this journey was a meaningful step in the right direction. That decision allows me to make every breath count.
Please share in the comments below the limitations that were difficult for you to accept and how you’ve come to terms with them.
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.
Phil Jones
Always like your pieces, Mr. Kirton. This one brings back a memory to me. Almost ten years ago my longtime companion collapsed on the stairs in our house one night and turned to me. "Why is everything so hard to do?" she asked in obvious distress. At the time we thought she was having an odd allergic reaction to something. The next day, at the hospital, we learned that she had a condition known as IPF. That was why everything was "so hard" to do. She later got a lung transplant, but the anti-immune drugs she took allowed cancer to enter her body and quickly kill her. Some things are hard and we just have to learn how to endure as best we can.
Nancy Lehman
I have IPF and was diagnosed in 2015. For several years I has no symptoms. We moved to a lower elevation in 2⁰19 when I was feeling much worse. Now in 2026 I am experiencing shortness I d breath. My disease is now much, much worse and I have trouble doing anything. Showering is hard and so is washing my hair. I am not on any medication yet.. I go to a new doctor Marc 11th to hear new developments. Hang in there. This disease sure isn't for sissies. Hand in there and thank GOD for every new day.
Ted Eugene Weber
Been since 2018 that I was diagnosed and been a steady progression although could be worse. Your story is the greatest because my wife does exactly what your wife does. Only problem is I have always been so independent, and my wife is five years older. Kind of guess too, I have a lot of denial until I do certain things which sometimes, I regret up to several days after. Thanks for sharing with me.