What a Difference Some Air Makes

Our bodies can be funny things. They appear to have simple needs, yet they can react in amazingly complex ways when they do not receive those needs, or get them in the right way. It seems pretty simple: get glucose and oxygen into the system, the system should function. But sometimes there is a breakdown in that system and things do not get where they are meant to go. Cancer has done its best to sap my body of the needed glucose, forcing muscles to break down and feed my brain. But just when I got that under control, beating back the tumor load mightily with a new drug, I got hit with a surprise "left": pneumonia.

A dry cough became a full-blown infection

Suddenly, a persistent, dry cough that had been pestering me for weeks became a source of shortness of breath. I had not been coughing anything up and there had been no detectable wheeze during the first two weeks or so, but then things began to change. I could tell that there was something loose in there, but it did not want to come up. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, my breathing became more labored. I began leaning on things, coughing in spasms that left me winded and exhausted, finding it harder to walk uphill or up stairs. Going in for a scheduled CT scan revealed that my right lung, completely clear in my previous scan just two months earlier, was now full of what had to be a full-blown infection.

Consulting my doctor for help

While I was experiencing shortness of breath, I was still registering in the mid-90s or higher on the oxygen saturation meter that always gets attached to my finger. That was a good sign. I was continuing my daily activities just fine -- for the most part. And then I wasn't. Two weeks passed, my antibiotic regimen completed, and I was actually doing worse. Maybe it was tied to the clean-out period that I was giving my body, ravaged by the cancer drug and needing a break, and the fact that I had just been weaning myself off the steroids that were meant to help my recovery. Maybe it had more to do with the fact that I still was not able to cough much of anything out of the infected lung. All I knew for sure was that I needed to take a deeper breath.

A quickly scheduled visit to my oncologist confirmed that, indeed, now I was not getting enough oxygen in my blood. It was close, but without assistance, I could not remain on my feet for very long. Getting plugged into a tank of good-old O2 quickly showed me what an absolute difference it makes between an 87% saturation level and a 93% saturation level. Bring that oxygen back above 95% and I feel like dancing. Let it sink just a touch below 90% and all I can do is flop into a chair and focus on breathing. If it dips into the mid-80s, I'm not even sure that I can focus.

Addressing my cough

The subtle lack of oxygen affected a wide range of my physical and cognitive abilities, ranging from my eyesight to my coordination to my attention span. I did not just merely make me dizzy, but I also lost my appetite and became extremely, exceedingly fatigued just walking between rooms. Without experiencing ennui, I still managed to lose all interest in things that otherwise should have intrigued or excited me. It was like I was a shell of a body, albeit a heavy one. Sleep was all that enticed me, and that, with the cough, was hard to come by. My cough was getting more productive, but taking so much out of me that I was near collapse.

But a short amount of time with the rubber tube attached to the end of my nose brought me back to myself. Things became clear where they had been cloudy. Recovery sometimes requires proper help. In this case, the chemicals had done their job -- it was time to get some mechanical help. In the end, I got my oxygen set up relatively quickly thanks to a group of dedicated nurses and their phone skills. While my insurance company often takes up to 72 hours to process these requests, I had my tanks and a compressor unit delivered in less than 24. And even better, I could feel my energy begin to return in just a few minutes after being plugged in.

Taking a good, deep breath

It may take a bit of time to rebuild my stamina, but by getting that oxygen supply I have bought myself the time to do it. It's these little things, these simple needs that our bodies have, that make a world of difference. And now my hope is, that with the ability to begin getting my body back to "normal" operations, not only will all my side-effects from treatment be cleared out, but my health will be back in good shape. And then, all things being equal, I ought to be able to restart my treatment again and keep that cancer at bay while also continuing to enjoy taking a good, deep breath.

Editor’s Note: We are extremely saddened to say that on October 21, 2018, Jeffrey Poehlmann passed away. Jeffrey’s advocacy efforts and writing continue to reach many. He will be deeply missed.