My Long Green Line

          I live at the end of a long green line. Two years now. Part of my “new normal,” as my doctor calls this. You see, I have a chronic lung disease.

          Fibrotic hypersensitivity pneumonitis. Fourteen syllables that rocked my world. Statistic-wise, I’m 2-3 out of every 100,000.

          I’ve fought writing this post, but there’s a possible therapeutic aspect. If I get this out, it could help me cope with the more difficult days. With the pain. Horrible chills. Tears and overwhelming sadness that sometimes engulf me.

          So, here I am, wanting to write to you about happy thoughts. Yet all of life just isn’t that way.

          There’s a percentage of struggle for us all—whether you have a chronic disease, deal with a broken family, experienced the death of a child, can’t cope with crushing debt, and the list goes on. All come at a price though very different and on all levels of the spectrum.

          For me? I think I’ve adjusted pretty well to life at the end of the long green line, as has my family. You see, the ever-running clunking machine sitting midway in our home takes air in and changes the nitrogen portion into oxygen, enabling me to breathe through…

          …my long green line. Tubing that pumps a continuous flow of oxygen through a cannula at the end that sits quite nicely inside my nostrils. Pretty picture. Eh? I’ve nicknamed the cannula my "jewelry.”

          My problem with breathing, though, impacts my family. Oh, they’ve never complained, but it did trouble me that dragging around 50 foot tubing affected them as well—needing to navigate it. I expressed that to my husband who cleverly came up with a help.

          “We can put Command Strip hooks high up and make a path about the house that way!”

          Did I ever dream when I married this hunk of man 47 years ago that he’d come up with something so clever? Yep! Simple, yet it works pretty well most of the time…and I feel better knowing the fellas in the house (hubby and adult disabled son) don’t need to be burdened by…

          …my long green line.

          Even though they’ve never complained, it hurts them when they hurt me—which isn’t hurt but rather discomfort. You see, at times part of my long green line that's always on the floor gets wrapped around their feet and they hear me screech as they walk further away…

          “Ya got me! Ya got me! My ears!” …because the stupid cannula (oops, I mean my “jewelry”) at those times feels like it’s ripping my ears off! Oh bother.

          Now, here’s a thought: Why not introduce your readers to your “new normal” friends, Sarah? (Imagine me having any normal friends! Ha!) Well, these friends are in a class by themselves! They have “airs” about them! (Smile.)

          This is about to sound like a fashion show. So, imagine these friends as models (which they are, complete with model numbers) traveling down a runway as I introduce each!

The Beast, Junior, Windy, and Tank-illa!

          The Beast begins our fashion show. He’s a full-figured clunker that keeps me going most of the time at home—20+ hours daily. He’s heavy but on wheels. He screams when turned on or when there’s a power failure. Fun! I need to keep a humidifier bottle attached to him to prevent chronic nosebleeds. He pumps a continuous flow of oxygen. Thank you, Beast.

 

         Junior is trimmer—about ½ the size of the beast and is portable with a pull-handle and wheels. He doesn't scream. He's more of a "boooop"-er. Junior goes with me when we travel because he has options: continuous flow (which I must have at night) or pulse (which is nicer during my waking hours). He can have a short tube attached but also works with a long green line when on continuous flow. Thank you, Junior.

          And now for petite Windy! She only pulses but goes with me everywhere. She’s several pounds to tote about, which is deceptive (I think) when viewing lovely videos of trim and fit senior citizens bicycling all over with their POCs (portable oxygen concentrators) slung over them like a stylish purse or strapped about their waists (like I could find a strap that long); but I’m so grateful my insurance allows me to have her. For without her, I’d be in deep doo-doo. (Yes, I have Junior, but he arrived a year after Windy and at our own expense.) Windy came with a black tote, and we added a backpack option, which is also black. Very slimming! Thank you, Windy.

          Last but not least is tall, slim Tank-illa who’s strapped in the corner of our bedroom. Why? Because I thought something green and silver would look nice there. (Smile.) And she’s there for use during an emergency. Thank you, Tank-illa.

          See? I do have friends!

          Hmm. I guess this was therapeutic for me. I’ll likely share more about my health journey in the future with hope that my experience helps you who are navigating chronic conditions.

          Despite my “new normal,” I know God is in control, He loves me and helps me through each day’s struggles, He comforts me in my weakness, and He holds me in His Arms. As I walk closer to the time I’ll reach Him in eternity, I’m reminded I’m not alone.

          I’m so grateful I’m connected to the Savior through His long red line—the blood one that carried Him to the cross, saw Him crucified, gives life everlasting because He rose again, and reaches even me!

          When I accepted Jesus into my life as Lord and Savior, He assured me I need not worry ever that my life will end. So, even on the days I struggle, I circle back to this—the Lord, my Hope! He Who has already secured my future with Him!

I Know Who Holds the Future by Alfred B. Smith & Eugene Clarke

I know who holds the future - YouTube

 

#chronicillness #fibrotichypersensitivitypneumonitis #oxygentherapy #oxygenators #breathing #newnormal

#Godwithme #Godmycomfort #Godcares #JesusSaviorLord #bloodline #eternallife

 

Photo Credit: all images from online medical sites