I Have COPD

Hopefully, some parts of my imaginary visit with St. Peter will never take place. Obviously, I did finish that book. Nevertheless, there is more truth to my autobiographical parable than most of us care to admit. In real life, a great deal of our time is consumed by fear, resentment, and the rules we create to insulate ourselves from the negative effects of our own deception. I know that much of my time was spent making amends for past actions, thoughts, and beliefs. Take my present problem of having a chronic lung disease, my problem didn't just happen—it took a lot of effort on my part, as well as on the part of others and society to produce my disease. I fear that this is one problem we humans will not be able to blame on nature, or God. My present problem, emphysema, was caused by years of smoking—pure and simple.

As I said, I have a chronic lung disease, commonly referred to as COPD or Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease: a term that refers to a group of diseases that share a common problem where the afflicted have difficulty expelling air from the lungs. It is not a pleasant illness, but which illness is? On its bad side, COPD can be a devil of a companion. It can actually make you sick—ha, ha. (My wife says that everyone may not find my last remark as funny; but I couldn't resist. This book needs a little humor.) On the good side, there is very little pain directly connected to my type of COPD. Sometimes, though, I may have indirect pain: pain that is being caused by another organ or part of my body because of the stress of not having an adequate supply of oxygen—but this is rare. Overall, I have very little, or no, physical pain. And as I am in the habit of telling others, "I am in perfect health: I just can't breathe."

Pain, however, is a very difficult concept to explain or communicate: since it can only be explained indirectly. Then, too, there are so many different types and forms of pain. There is physical pain, emotional pain, mental pain, mental and emotional pain, mental and physical pain, physical and emotional pain, and of course, there is mental-emotional-physical pain. It is obvious, though, that we live in a "pain conscious" world. Everyone is crying pain these days.

Personally, I am not a pain-oriented individual. I don't think in terms of pain—maybe because I don't believe in inflicting pain on others. It is not something I relate to when I hear my fellow seniors make the comment: "It is not the dying I am afraid of—it's the pain." Well, personally, it's not the pain I'm afraid of—it's the dying. Dying has always scared the hell out of me, and maybe this is good. Who wants hell residing inside of himself in the first place?

But seriously, having COPD is serious business. It is constantly trying to get the upper hand. Take this morning for example: it is now 6:12 a.m., and I am sitting at the table reading the paper, having my coffee, water, and smelling my thyme, camphor oil, and garlic—all herbs—all of which I hope will help me to breathe and eliminate from my lungs and system the surplus phlegm and mucous that had been collecting in my body throughout the day and night. The process is one of the more unpleasant aspects of my illness, but a process that is absolutely necessary. Unfortunately, the surplus mucous in my system not only makes it very difficult for me to breathe, but the surplus mucous also helps to create a perfect environment for bacteria to grow and multiply. Thus, for people like me with a chronic lung disease, it is extremely important that we develop an efficient method to clean out our bronchial tubes, and lungs—which can make the difference between health and sickness.

Generally speaking, the process of cleaning out my respiratory system of its surplus mucous may require anywhere from one half hour to one and a half hours to complete each day. The process is damned hard work, and I can see why there are those who succumb to taking drugs or whatever means might grant them temporary relief. However, it would appear that I am gradually, but slowly, making some progress in learning how to cope with my illness. Moreover, it would appear that as I learn more and more about my illness, and as I continue to practice better breathing habits—diaphragmatic breathing, etc.—that my subconscious mind is beginning to help out by taking over some of my now conscious requirements. And, I must say, the writing of this book has turned out to be a big help. It is teaching me to take a keener look at this real life drama. The way I see it, at this moment at least, I can either look at this illness as a curse or a blessing, a captor or an opportunity to learn. The prime question is how do I turn a negative into a positive. Or, how does one stay on top of a critical situation without giving way to fear and despair? (As an added benefit, I am gradually learning that all true learning leads in the same direction—there is nothing unrelated.)

Anyway, in the beginning, I had a lot harder time implementing the process of bronchial drainage than I do now—due to both ignorance and wrong advice. Like most things, wrong advice can be very complex and subtle. It doesn't have to be a boldface lie. It can be nothing more than someone or something pointing us in the wrong direction. And, let's face it, time can be a very important factor in one's treatment of illness. So, if I never say anything more of value in this book—let me make one thing absolutely clear. Illness, in the final analysis, is the patient's responsibility. Let me repeat: illness is the patient's responsibility. There are no exceptions. Regardless of who or what we turn our illness over to, we, the afflicted, will pay the price, endure the pain, and bear the final burden, whatever it may be.

(I realize that there are times when we humans have no choice, that the task of saving us is up to others and God. But that is quite another subject.)

As I said, wrong advice can be tricky. It can come from anywhere. It can come from ourselves; it can come from books; it can come from television; it can come from the experts and science; it can come from your doctor; it can come from seemingly outer space. So, where does this leave us? Well, right back where we started: with ourselves. This is why I tend to speak in generalities and over-riding principles when it comes to sharing my strength, hope, and experience with others. I would feel terrible should I knowingly mislead someone into danger. I don't know if I could ever forgive my self at this late date. Besides, we individuals can never assume another's responsibilities. We may try, but we will always falter. No one truly wants another to take over his or her responsibilities, and if we do, even with their permission, in the end, more often than not, the relationship will end with a resentment. The world is filled with individuals who are being deprived of personal responsibility. And of course, the world is filled with resentment.

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CONVERSATIONS

My Earliest Days

Recollections of WWII

Music Touches Me for the First Time

The Grand Island Experience

Individual and Collective Error

Pain - Notes