December 7, 2001
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“ .... and after he gets some more tests and a workup done, he will go on the waiting list for a lung transplant.” I sat reeling, hardly able to believe my sister was describing the situation with my brother. I knew he had COPD (chronic obstructive pulmonary disease), but none of us had any idea he had gotten so sick. My brother gave up smoking several years ago, but appeared to have already damaged his lungs to the point of having emphysema (same thing happened to my Dad). His condition was worsening rather rapidly and his doctor became concerned and thought something more than just the natural progression of emphysema was going on, so he ordered some tests. They determined that my brother has a genetic disorder called alpha-1 antitrypsin deficiency. In all likelihood, my father had it, but it remained undiagnosed as often happens with this affliction. The only hope he has is a lung transplant. They said normally one has to wait about a year and a half once they get on the waiting list. He is a young man in his forties, only two years my senior. He has a fifteen year old daughter and has just recently landed a job he really likes. I cannot even imagine being handed such news. I have been busy getting ready for Josh and Leah to arrive. Today I found the cutest outfit for Leah. She is very tall and slim, so everything looks good on her. She is fun to buy for because she’s willing to wear lots of different styles and colors. I want to find something for Josh... jeans or Dockers or whatever... and then I’ll be finished shopping. Mostly I need to clean which is something I am very good at avoiding. One problem is all the clutter in this house. It is impossible to put everything away, because there just isn’t room. I need to start hauling stuff away until the house becomes presentable. Next week my Alzheimer’s Caregiver support group is meeting for lunch. The ladies in the group are all so sweet. I know we’ll have a good time. It breaks my heart to hear about the things they are going through with their husbands. It’s a good thing that we stay so busy trying to master the tasks that must be done, because when you get a chance to think about what’s going on, it’s just too sad. Anyway, Carole is meeting me at the adult care center and we’ll ride to the restaurant together since I don’t know the location. Mom continues to be more manageable than the last several weeks, but has days when she won’t even get up until after supper and then goes right back to bed. It always makes me feel like she is depressed when she does that, but it might not mean that at all. She is still balking about taking her meds pretty often, so I developed a wonderful ‘spiked’ yogurt-banana cocktail she always goes for so far. Psalm 3:4 I cried unto the LORD with my voice, and he heard me out of his holy hill. Selah. . . |
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