The first diagnosis

I watched my father-in-law struggle with COPD for several years. He not only smoked, but was a retired firefighter, serving at a time when the protection from smoke was not like it is today.

When I did the breathing test and was told “COPD”, I was upset and scared. I had smoked for 45 years with many attempts at quitting so it wasn’t a very big shock. But all I could see in my future was the vision of me just like my father-in-law. Not being able to walk from one end of my house to the other without stopping, sitting, gasping for air.

I am in the early stages of this disease but I can feel it starting to overcome my daily life. No more walks around my subdivision. The constant fatigue. The coughing that won’t stop. Feeling helpless and like a total failure when I watch my husband take on the tasks that I used to do. Watching my daughter be ever vigilant when we got out shopping, making sure I am OK.

I don’t like this. Not one little bit. And it is going to get progressively worse. I may not be able to survive what is to come.

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