Finding the strawberry in the situation...

I try to look on the bright side. I really do.

But sometimes, lugging around Herkimer gets a little tiresome. My POC (Portable Oxygen Concentrator) makes my mobility possible, but he's also awkward in tight places and in a crowd I live in fear that someone will trip over his rolling cart.

It helps that when we leave the ship for the uneven ground of a shore excursion, my DH wears Herkimer on his back. Of course, this means we're tethered together by my 7 ft. cannula, but fortunately, we enjoy each other's company. Occasionally, we get tangled up and have to do a few pirouettes, but then we soldier on.

So, there's the strawberry in the situation. I may be dependent on Herkimer for the extra O2 I need, but I'm so tremendously blessed to have a husband I can count on to help lighten my load.

I need him like I need my next breath. And because of him, even with this lung disease, I'm the luckiest woman alive.

Traveling with my breathing gear

When I was in high school, my English teacher invited us to write a letter to our older selves. We were encouraged to share our dreams. One of mine was to travel. I wanted to see the world.

Fortunately, I married the Norwegian Hunk who went to work for an airline and we made good use of those "golden handcuffs." That's what travel industry folk call flight benefits. Our kids had passports by the time they were 8 and 6 and we took trips we couldn't have afforded without those special benefits. I've seen a good bit of Europe and Japan, and closer to home, I've visited 49 out of the 50 states. (Look out, Louisiana, I'm coming for you!)

But that was before I had so much mechanical stuff to drag along to support my breathing. I need to pack Herkimer (my portable oxygen concentrator) along with his electrical cords, extra batteries, charger, spare filters, backpack to use instead of the wheeled cart for when I'm expecting uneven ground and extra cannulas, My POC has its own suitcase!

But I still love to travel and it worked out ok last January when the Norwegian Hunk and I decided to celebrate his retirement from Google with a two week Caribbean cruise. We drove from the Midwest down to Tampa to catch the boat, so I wasn't constrained by airline luggage rules.

However, another device has been added to my regimen--a bi-pap machine at night. Evidently I was holding my breath more than 100 times a night. Not good. So I have the company of Herkimer when I'm active by day and I'm attached to "Morpheus" on my bedside table by night.

I hated it at first. It was like drowning in air. But a body can get used to anything they say, and  I can honestly report now that I feel the benefits of the additional therapy. However, Morpheus has its own set of stuff--cords, tubes, distilled water--I need to waggle along when I travel.

Next week, we're planning a trip to Corpus Christi to visit one of my sisters and her family. Since it's a driving trip, I'm not worried about fitting everything in, but in July, we'll be flying to NYC for the RWA National Conference. I'm going to have to do some creative packing for that.

Any suggestions?

It's like when I was pregnant...

As my belly grew, I kept noticing other women who were with child. We were everywhere. 

Now that I'm on supplemental O2, I see people with canisters and cannulas every time I leave the house. And quite often, people ask me about my POC, about my diagnosis, whether I was a smoker (I wasn't.) and generally whatever pops into their heads. That's ok with me. I'd rather have a conversation with someone than a sidelong stare. So that's why I decided to start this blog--to share my experience with trying to catch my second wind in the hope that it will help someone else who's struggling with an O2 prescription. 

So my DH and I were at Walmart today and a lady stopped me to ask about my POC (portable oxygen concentrator). She'd just been prescribed O2 and was resisting the canisters and home fill paraphernalia. I knew exactly how she felt. When my oxygen provider wheeled in that big, loud, ugly monstrosity and expected me to refill those heavy O2 canisters, I wanted to cry. The machine made me feel old (I'm only 59) and tied to the end of that long green tube in my own home. My world suddenly seemed very small and I was so not ready for it to implode like that.

Then I started looking at portable oxygen concentrators. They pull air through a filtration system, toss out everything but the O2 and deliver a puff of the good stuff each time the user takes a breath. That sounded good to me, but I wondered if I'd be able to use a pulse system instead of a continuous flow. Fortunately, I was able to and then the only decision was which POC to buy. (Since my husband is retiring soon, like this week, it was important to me to own my system instead of having insurance pay for me to rent one.)

After comparing O2 settings, battery life, and weight of the unit, I settled on an Inogen One G2. I love it. I named him Herkimer because I wanted to be able to smile when I talk about him and a silly name helps with that. I can wheel him about. Put him in a backpack. Plug him in for long car rides. He is my mobility. 

I'm done feeling sad about my need for extra O2. It's like any other maintenance medication, like insulin for a diabetic, or blood pressure meds to ward off a stroke, I need it to keep going.

And, please God, Herkimer and I will be going a long time. 

Are you using O2 or have been prescribed it, but are resisting? Please share.