Shedding a tear as we move out of the house that was our home

“It’s just a house.”

I cannot tell you how many times I’ve said this to myself over the past few weeks. In my adult life, I have moved about 16 times, including four moves to the other side of the world. I have driven away from other houses without a second thought. This time was different. Our waterfront home at Lake Anna, Virginia, wasn’t just a house.

My wife, Susan, and I fell in love the first time we pulled into the driveway. The house was private and not readily visible from the road. One other thing: It was ugly. The colors were dated, yet we knew it was perfect for us. This would be our weekend home to enjoy with family and friends and, in the distant future, our retirement home. We closed on Aug. 19, 2011.

Just four days later, on Aug. 23, the Mineral earthquake struck Virginia. At that point, we had moved only boxes into the house, and a bottle of olive oil was all that sat on the pantry shelf. Thankfully, the damage was minimal. The crown molding around the fireplace was pushed out, and the bottle of olive oil fell off the shelf and broke on the tile floor. The grout remained stained until we replaced the floor.

We began turning the house into our future home. We replaced the roof and deck, and replaced the carpet with hardwood floors. Interior renovations included all bathrooms and the kitchen. We made it ours from the roof to the slab.

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Our sanctuary

When I was diagnosed with idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis (IPF) in January 2017, Susan and I knew our lives would change. We had not anticipated a rare disease.

That fall, on the advice of my care team, I left my job to go out on disability, which significantly changed how we viewed our future. At that point, Susan’s employer had just sold the company. She received a significant payout from the sale, which allowed her to retire. We moved to the lake to live there full time.

Moving to Lake Anna allowed us to slow down. We no longer had jobs that required our attention, and my IPF journey became our focus. No matter how hard a procedure had been, turning into the driveway afterward always meant I was home.

When COVID-19 arrived in the spring of 2020, the house became our refuge. I stayed home while Susan handled everything outside the house, including all the necessary shopping. Amazon, UPS, and FedEx made countless stops, leaving deliveries in front of the garage.

On July 9, 2021, shortly after 9 a.m., three of my pretransplant nurses called to tell me that lungs were available. I was in my office at the lake house, and Susan was downstairs in her office. We grabbed our go bag and several supplemental oxygen E tanks and left the driveway for the last time with my fibrotic lungs. My progressing IPF meant the timing of this call was critical.

My bilateral lung transplant on July 10 was successful. I was discharged from the hospital 10 days later but had to remain nearby for up to 90 days. Because our Lake Anna home was 90 minutes away on a good day, we leased an apartment near the hospital for a few months. COVID-19 was still prevalent, so we kept to ourselves. I only left the apartment to attend appointments and pulmonary rehabilitation sessions, and go for walks.

On the day we returned home to Lake Anna, signs and banners greeted us as we turned into our community. When we reached our street, just beyond our driveway, our neighbors and friends had blocked the street with camp chairs, waiting for us.

In the years since my transplant, those same neighbors have helped with things I couldn’t do. Post-transplant life has its own limitations, but someone always offered assistance.

My recent challenges with shingles and foot drop led us to close this chapter. While I am making progress with the foot drop, the stairs remain an issue. Susan and I have talked about downsizing and decided now was the time. Single-level living will be a welcome change after three months confined to the lake house’s first floor.

This wasn’t just a house. This was our home. As we pull out of the driveway, we will look back, and I suspect we’ll shed a tear or two. Our new home is only about a mile away and still near the lake, but no longer waterfront. One thing won’t change: We’ll continue to 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.