I refuse to bow to the ravages of COPD

The phone rings and everything else such as noise, TV, conversations and family seem to fade into the back ground. My Pulmonary Doctor is calling with the results of my most recent PLF test. “Hello”.
I hang up the phone and stare into space. “Well?” my wife asks. I explain that the doctor said the disease has progressed and now I have severe obstruction with moderate diffusion, stage 3 COPD. It has gotten worse and the doctor ‘suggests pulmonary rehab. I roll my eyes and shake my head thinking “how the heck do you exercise when you can’t breathe”? My recliner and I had become inseparable along with the TV and it’s remote and we weren’t going to take this suggestion lying down. I remember clearly it is September of 2012 I have 3 years left.

Let’s start back in 2010 when I was first diagnosed. One afternoon some friends had come over to help around the farm, I started horse playing with one of the young boys. All of a sudden I could not catch my breath for anything and I thought I was going to pass out. I had to go in the house and rest and call it a day. I smoked a pack and a half of cigarettes per day at the time. I tried to light a cigarette the next morning but I just could not smoke it. I wanted to smoke but I literally could not inhale. I decided maybe if I just didn’t smoke for a couple of weeks I would be fine and back to my old self. I stopped smoking cold turkey not because I wanted to quit but because I just couldn’t breath and smoke.

Six weeks after I quit smoking I was feeling much worse. I had nasty metal tasting mucus all the time and I could not walk and talk or climb a flight of stairs. I found when showered and washed my hair I needed a nap to recover from the excretion. I finally made an appointment with the doctor hopeful that they could do something for my condition. After several rounds of antibiotics and six months I went in for my first Pulmonary Function Test. A week later the doctor called with the results of the test: stage 2 COPD and an FEV1 of 42. I demanded to know what that meant in terms of longevity. Did I need to get my things in order or can this be fixed? I was told that COPD is chronic and progressive along with the Pulmonary Fibrosis they had diagnosed I had on average about 5 years but that it wasn’t a guarantee. Over the next 2 years I followed the doctors’ orders and I used my inhalers and other medications religiously. However all I seemed to gain was an extra 40 pounds and more medical issues, such as high cholesterol, pre diabetes, back pain and a horrible case of depression with a capital D.

Now the doctor wanted me to go to a pulmonary rehab program and that just made me angry. I figured I would go just to prove how stupid it was, maybe I would die doing exercise and this would be over. I can hardly breathe and they think I can exercise? I can’t even walk up the stairs without stopping. I was sent to an 18 week program going on Tuesday and Thursday mornings. The first thing I noticed was there were other people like me and they understood how I felt. This was a first because I knew that nobody else could possibly know how I felt. I also noticed that having something to do besides sit helped with my depression. I looked forward to going to rehab and seeing my new friends. I enjoyed learning the breathing techniques and how my lungs worked. The exercise also seemed to be helping. At first I needed oxygen on the treadmill but even that got better. Wow was I surprised! They explained nutrition specific to COPD and made it really simple. It was surprising how many foods affected how I felt. OK I’ll say it: rehab helped a lot. I wasn’t running but I did feel better.

I took what I learned back to the farm and started puttering around again, things couldn’t be better I thought. Rehab had ended and I sat back and enjoyed my new found health but in a matter of months I was back to sitting on the recliner complaining, eating too much and being foul to everyone. I hated life and myself! The small farm was back to falling apart I was eating the wrong things again and the medications seemed to quit working. I honestly just wanted it all to end; I even started splitting things into piles for the kids. My youngest daughter was running track at the time and needed me to pick her up at the gym. Our little community hospital is where our gym is and when I went there the first time I noticed a Better Breathers club sign posted on the door. I thought I should go to the meeting and see if there would be people I could relate to.

The club was small sometimes only two people would show but the Rehab technician Rob was really cool and we talked and became good friends. I decided it was time to do something different and I knew I was wasting away in the recliner. I could die on the treadmill or the recliner either way the end result was the same but on the treadmill I had tried. I thought maybe stronger muscles might use less oxygen. I told Rob my idea about pushing the limits on the exercise and he agreed to help monitor me while I was at the gym. First we would record my blood pressure, pulse and os2 readings and then I would do my exercise and we would record them again.

The first two months were terrible I had to keep telling myself shut up and just do it. I remember being embarrassed and feeling useless. The first time I stepped on an elliptical machine I lasted about 30 seconds before I was so out of breath I thought I would pass out. That was all I could do! The treadmill was a little better I could walk about 5 minutes before I was done. I lifted weights also to increase the strength in all of my muscles. As misguided as my concept might be I thought stronger muscles might need less oxygen. My biggest accomplishments were when I added time or resistance to any exercise. This came in tiny increments, 10 or 15 second intervals or just 1 more step. Resistance came the same way just a little at a time. That is when I learned just what it would take, yesterday 30 seconds today 35 seconds, tomorrow 40 seconds.

About 4 to 6 months into my workouts a young man at the gym invited me to go watch him in at an event at the coliseum. I still hated being anywhere but home but agreed to go for support. The family sat on the ground floor next to the ring waiting for the event to start. I needed to use the restroom and excused myself. When I returned I sat with my mouth open in total amazement. I don’t remember anything about the event or the ride home. I do remember I went up three steep flights of stairs without help or stopping or having to catch my breath every few steps. I was completely blown away.

This was the first measure of how my exercise program had helped me. I had my next surprise when I went in for blood work. I found I could drop over half the pills I was taking. No more sugar, cholesterol or water pills and I had lost 30 pounds! My lungs did not change but I was using what I had more efficiently. The muscles were stronger so more work got done with less effort

This my story and my interest today is to tell as many people as possible what worked for me and to keep working on myself. I hope even at 59 with stage 3 COPD to get my fitness trainer certification and be able to work with people like myself who want to get better.

Please visit me at COPD wellness on facebook.

Good luck to all and stay strong!