Since a lot of the people that I have “known” since I started on GC come to this comment fest, I’m going to put this out here. I posted it on Duplex on the 24th in response to Impkins Patsnozzle’s question. This is basically a catharsis for me and not a cry for sympathy.
I was diagnosed with Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis a year ago, when I was given 2 – 4 years to live. I’m sticking with that number now because of the stability of my last few lung function tests. Pretty much nothing has changed this past year. Basically, my lungs are hardening. Listening with a stethoscope, they kinda sound like when you’re chewing Rice Krispies®. I am on Oxygen when I’m moving, but my blood O2 is normal at rest.
My pulmonologist says no cancer and not COPD or smoking related. So basically, they don’t know why without opening me up, and I’m not letting them do that right now. My best guess is some of the hazmat materials I dealt with working on Cold War era (50s-70s) submarines, most likely culprit asbestos pipe insulation. #2 suspect: bird dust from my breeder days.
In order to get eligible to be put on a lung transplant program at Loyola University, I had to lose 50 lbs starting last year. The first 6 months saw basically no loss (probably depression), but as of last Friday, I’m halfway there.
The transplant coordinator was happy with my weight loss the week before and my name is in front of the transplant team. At the moment, it’s the best I can hope for.
So…. any day I’m not looking at the brown side of grass is a blessing and I’m making the most of my time. I’m working on a bucket list, one of which is turning my avatar into a shoulder tat. Haven’t found an artist I’d trust with it, yet.
There you have it. I’m still the loveable smartass you all know and love, just with an expiration date. Fingers crossed it’s on the long end of it. Blessings to you all, my friends.
Since a lot of the people that I have “known” since I started on GC come to this comment fest, I’m going to put this out here. I posted it on Duplex on the 24th in response to Impkins Patsnozzle’s question. This is basically a catharsis for me and not a cry for sympathy.
I was diagnosed with Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis a year ago, when I was given 2 – 4 years to live. I’m sticking with that number now because of the stability of my last few lung function tests. Pretty much nothing has changed this past year. Basically, my lungs are hardening. Listening with a stethoscope, they kinda sound like when you’re chewing Rice Krispies®. I am on Oxygen when I’m moving, but my blood O2 is normal at rest.My pulmonologist says no cancer and not COPD or smoking related. So basically, they don’t know why without opening me up, and I’m not letting them do that right now. My best guess is some of the hazmat materials I dealt with working on Cold War era (50s-70s) submarines, most likely culprit asbestos pipe insulation. #2 suspect: bird dust from my breeder days.
In order to get eligible to be put on a lung transplant program at Loyola University, I had to lose 50 lbs starting last year. The first 6 months saw basically no loss (probably depression), but as of last Friday, I’m halfway there.
The transplant coordinator was happy with my weight loss the week before and my name is in front of the transplant team. At the moment, it’s the best I can hope for.
So…. any day I’m not looking at the brown side of grass is a blessing and I’m making the most of my time. I’m working on a bucket list, one of which is turning my avatar into a shoulder tat. Haven’t found an artist I’d trust with it, yet.
There you have it. I’m still the loveable smartass you all know and love, just with an expiration date. Fingers crossed it’s on the long end of it. Blessings to you all, my friends.