For reference to "Oxygen Cloggin' " (by Kate Fischer, 10/1/08), see paragraph with *.
Because the picture is so small, you may not be able to see the nasal tubes, or that
the canister says "Oxygen." This is important information.
Don't get me wrong -- I still love my Dr. Pulmonologist. But today's visit was somewhat sobering for me. Remember -- the reason that I like Dr. Pulmonologist is that he's nice, and he listens to me. That's still the case...Today's visit started out just like the other two. He asked questions, I answered, he listened to my answers. Then I was allowed to elaborate on all of the research I'd done, ask my questions and be assured that my condition was nowhere near as serious as whatever diagnosis I'd come up with. In that vein, today I was told that yes, "idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis" is one diagnosis that can be made when other causes for scarred lungs have been ruled out. However, that's a serious condition (Duh!), and Dr. Pulmnologist is certain that I do not have that. (Yesss! Exactly what I was hoping for. Once again, "Expect the worse and you won't be disappointed" had not failed me as a motto.)
However, since Dr. Pulmonologist does listen, he apparently heard something that made him think he needed to "have me walked." (Perhaps it was the part about my blue fingers?) Anyway, being walked was pretty cool. Instead of a leash, his nurse hooked some sort of a blood/oxygen indicator on my finger and led me around by that. The doctor's instructions were to walk me briskly until my heart rate had gone up by at least ten. (Beats per minute, I guess. It had been 61 when I first sat down in his office, which is pretty good for me.) Well, we never even got up to a trot. Once around the outer hallways and she was looking at her monitor, saying, "We're gonna stop here." Hmmmm. It didn't feel like my heart rate had gone up much...
My heart rate hadn't gone up much -- But my oxygen level had plummeted. (That had also been good when I first arrived -- 95, while 96 and up is optimal.) It was now reading about 15 counts lower than what I had come in with. I did a quick finger check, and sure enough -- the digits on both hands were taking on a cloudy blue tint.
Anyway, the nice nurse (yes, I like her, too) gave me a flu shot while we waited for Dr. Pulmonologist to check out that oxygen thing. (Yes -- a flu shot. I hadn't wanted one, but I looked deep into the good doctor's eyes, decided to trust him and said ok.) She was just finishing up as the doctor returned, looking concerned. I held out my hands to show him my blue fingers, but lo and behold -- while my right hand was fine, the entire palm of my left hand was purple! I asked what that could mean, and he said "I don't know." (Another reason I like him -- his honesty.)
So now comes the scary part... (I bet you thought it was that flu shot, didn't you?)
*The results of that little walking experiment qualified me for oxygen! Like in a canister with tubes going up my nose! Like while I'm "exerting" myself! Like while I'm clogging! Can't you just picture that... (I knew you'd have trouble; please refer to the picture above.)
And here's even more scary stuff -- On October 14 I am going to have a lung biopsy. It's actually called a fiberoptic bronchoscopy, and it doesn't involve cracking ribs or anything. They'll stick a tube through my nose (I said it was scary, didn't I?) and there's only a slight chance that the doctor could actually puncture a lung while he's doing it.
But even with that risk, the scariest part for me is that something about today transformed Dr. Pulmonologist from Positive-and-Encouraging Doctor to Seriously-Concerned Doctor. Something made him switch from reassuring me that my condition wasn't anything to worry about to giving me reason to think, "Hey, this really is serious." (Which is what I'd been telling myself all along, in order to stave off shock and dismay. I didn't believe it, though!)
Oh well -- It's all still a work in progress. Perhaps there is some good news here somewhere. I mean one can expect the worst and still be an optimist, can't one?
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