Not a Germaphobe, But...

I am sincerely not a germaphobe. I mean that; I'm not the kind of person who disinfects their knick-nacks weekly, but thinks "that's just normal."

Let me give you an example. I believe firmly in the five second rule, unless the item is wet or sticky. (Mythbusters confirms this, by the way.) Once, as a kid, I dropped an Oreo, then picked it up and blew on it before taking a bite. Another kid looked at me with disgust, and said, "You know that you can't blow the germs off, right?"

I said, "I'm not worried about germs. I'm blowing off any dust bunnies," and took another bite. I mean, who wants a mouthful of lint?

Thinking about it, I wonder if that kid ever talked to me again. Other children did not find me endearing.

Anyway, that's where I'm coming from when I say this: how you handle your illnesses could potentially kill me.

I know that's hard to understand, because I know lots of normal people who can't quite imagine it. But there it is.

Let's talk about my lungs for a minute. I spent years, in fact all of my childhood, not really thinking about my lungs. They were there, they worked, end of story. Now, it's a whole different ball game.

More than 20 years ago, I went, with my family, to a friend's wedding out of state. It was lovely, we had a great time, but I got sick on the way home. I grumbled about the misery of being sick in the summer, and finally had to go to the doctor. I was diagnosed with bronchitis, and given medication.

I'd never had bronchitis as a kid. The sensation of trying to breathe but not getting any air was new.

Anyway, I went through a full course of antibiotics, but still didn't feel well. So I had a second course, and then finally, a third. It had been over two months of illness by this time. The doctor assurred me that I was fine, but I didn't feel fine.

I went back to the doctor's office a fourth time. "I don't understand why I don't feel better," I said. The physician's assistant looked at my chart and said, rather irritably, "You've got to come to terms with the fact that you now have lung damage. You're undoubtedly going to be asthmatic from now on."

Note to health care professionals: You may want to ask if a patient has ever been informed that they have a condition before you tell them to accept it. I had never been informed that I had lung damage, or that I was now asthmatic, until that moment. It was not a great way to find out.

It took months to get used to my new normal. When I finally did, though, it got to the point that I rarely thought about asthma. I didn't need daily medication, or adjustments to my life. When I got sick, though, with even a cold, it would move down into my lungs and I'd need an inhaler. It's annoying, but doable.

More than a decade passed that way. Sick = treat my lungs; well = business as usual. Of course, "usual" was the new usual, right, the one with diminished lung capacity. Still, I'm not a pro athlete or professional musician, so the new normal worked fine. Actually, it gave me empathy for people who struggle daily.

I'm still not entirely sure what happened. I didn't move to a new climate, get a new job, gain or lose a ton of weight, take up smoking or vaping, or change in any other noticable way. But slowly, my lungs got worse. Then, for no reason apparent to me, they got rapidly worse.

I'm guessing it's probably the same thing that happened back when they were initially damaged - I got sick, it lingered, more damage. I can't pinpoint a moment, and (much as I really do love my doctor's office) nobody really tried to sleuth out why or when - they just treated the symptoms. So, instead of a rescue inhaler, I now have 2 daily inhalers (different drugs, different treatment regime; one is once a day, one is twice a day), a rescue inhaler (potentially every 4 hours), and a daily COPD pill. (I didn't think the pill was doing much until I ran out, and went for 10 days without it.)

I struggle to breathe, every day. The last three years have been difficult. Things that were always irritants - I have allergies - now are perilous. Dust, pollen, animal fur, cold temperatures will all seize up my lungs, to the point that I'm struggling for oxygen. Not "for air;" - I know some people feel as if they have a weight on their chest, or a band across their chest, but I feel as if my lungs are taking in the same amount of air, big, deep breaths, but there's no oxygen in the air. It's like breathing helium. Your lungs inflate, but you get no oxygen.

My voice will either get thin and breathy, or low and growly. That's usually the signal - break out the rescue inhaler. Sometimes, I don't notice. My daughter in law has gotten really good about saying to me, calmly and conversationally, "Your lips are turning blue. You probably ought to take your inhaler."

I do a lot less outside my home. During the winter, especially, I won't even go grocery shopping after dark. It's too cold - I can't breathe. Some days, I'm reduced to writing notes and giving hand signals to my family, and I've lost perspective enough to spend those days thinking, "Hey, no coughing fits! I'm doing great!" instead of, "Holy cow, I cannot even carry on a conversation."

Just in case you're going to say something like, "Hey, how do you know it's not just your weight?" or, "Maybe you're just out of shape," be aware that I've had those conversations with doctors, I've gone to see specialists, I recently had a cardiologist get (really annoyingly, frankly) complimentary about my heart health after a cardiac stress test.

Ironically, while going to the grocery store or my Rotary Club meetings has gotten difficult, going far away is often fantastic. Hawaii, Florida, cruises - my lungs love it there. We recently spent 11 days of a 14 day cruise entirely at sea, and my lungs were so happy. No dust, no pollen, no animals, no cold - two of my three inhalers never left their packaging. (I take the once a day inhaler no matter what.) It felt absolutely healing.

Then I came home, ran my vaccuum, and was back to writing notes. Coughing, wheezing, siiting in my recliner obsessively measuring my oxygen saturation and pulse; that kind of thing happens way too often.

I have a little fingertip monitor for my oxygen saturation and pulse. In a perfect world, saturation would be 100%. In most people, it's 96% or 97%. If you're in the hospital, alarms will go off if yours hits 85% (I know from experience). I have spent days with mine hovering at 90% to 91%, with my pulse rate at 112 beats per minute. 120 beats is considered normal for "strenuous exercise." All it takes is dust, or pollen, or a cold, or... you get the idea.

Once, mine was so low that the monitor couldn't read it. My son, my husband, everyone got readings but me; for me, it said there was no finger in the monitor. Naturally, I try to avoid that.

So, that's my normal existence. Now imagine how I feel about illnesses, especially those that affect the lungs. I'm not just talking about COVID-19, I'm talking about the flu, pneumonia, bronchitis. Any of those could kill me, easily.

My bonus daughter is a nurse, and in discussing coronavirus online, she was explaining that "it's like the flu" does NOT mean, "it's mild, no big deal." It means, "It's deadly, and will kill thousands every year." Her exact words were, "We should be terrified of viruses. We've gotten complacent and lazy." We view illness as an inconvenience, not a killer. We're wrong.

You know what used to kill people every year? Winter. The cold, the lack of available food back in the days when you had to grow and hunt your own, then try to store it long term with no refrigeration or canned goods, killed the old, the young, the sick, every single winter. People would travel to their neighbor's farms, or into the village, when spring came, in order to see who survived and who passed away.

Anyway; I digress. Illnesses are scary and can kill me. They can kill you, too, but they'll take me first. But to do that, they need to pass from one person to another. You know what prevents that? Staying home when you're sick!

Advertising tells us differently. It says, "Take this over the counter medication, and you can go about your day like normal! Go to work, go to the gym, go out to dinner!" That's terrible advice, terrible. That's equivalent to driving drunk. You're gambling that your behavior won't harm or kill someone else, and you're doing so in order to have fun or to feel good about yourself. Because, too many of us feel that being sick is being weak, and not being able to carry on is a sign of bad character.

I just read about a young lady who passed away from COVID-19; her family said that she felt strongly about doing her job, so she went to work "until she couldn't breathe." I admire her love of her job and her clients, but she may have killed some of them.

The worst thing about this virus is that it can pass to others when you have no symptoms, when you don't know that you have it. That's why we're all quarantined at home.

When you're sick, even "just a cold," stay home. During a pandemic, stay home, even if you're healthy. Don't become a carrier.

You wouldn't drive drunk - at least, I hope not. So, don't spread germs. Don't spread viruses. It will kill those of us who already have health issues. Natural selection does not cover your arrogant, self absorbed or careless behavior. Nature is not designed around you getting your own way at the expense of others.

Society shut down for fear of polio, and most times, polio would not kill you.

You can handle some boredom and inconvenience. Stay home. I'm trying to breathe.