Life Tethered to a Concentrator — Caroline Gainer

When I was in my 20s, I was diagnosed with cancer over a phone call. What a way to practice medicine, but I felt something I didn’t expect: relief. Not because the diagnosis was easy — it wasn’t — but because the not‑knowing had been worse. The fear lived in…

I grew up in a home where encouragement was woven into the walls. My mother offered it from the kitchen table while stirring supper and guiding me through homework. My father shared it from his living room chair, patient and steady as he walked me through math problems. Their sayings…

Some mornings, chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD) feels like it has already made the first decision for me. Before I even swing my legs over the side of the bed, the tightness in my chest tells me what kind of day it’s going to be. On those days, I…

I’ve spent a long time believing I wrote this column for other people — for anyone trying to build a decent life with chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD), who wakes up each morning negotiating with their own lungs. While that’s still part of it, lately, I’ve realized something I…

Last fall, I had shingles, diverticulitis, and an upper respiratory infection, all within four weeks. I call that period a trifecta of illness. In the months after the trifecta swept through me, even my chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD) breathlessness felt heavier, as if it had inherited its own…

Getting better with chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD) isn’t a passive hope. It’s a practice of daily choosing, and sometimes it feels like the choosing is the hardest part. No one hands you a syllabus when you’re diagnosed. There’s no neat checklist taped to the refrigerator that says,…

Growing up in West Virginia, free natural gas was one of those peculiar perks of living along the oil and gas rights-of-way. Landowners granted access in exchange for this benefit, and it kept our homes warm — but not without complications. On the coldest nights, the gas would sputter out,…

When the word pleurodesis first entered my life, it was not abstract, but was tethered to the reality of three pneumothoraces since 2010. Each lung collapse was a reminder of how suddenly breath could be stolen, how fragile the lung’s tether to the chest wall could be. Doctors explained the…

My husband and I once took two foster kids for a horseback ride at a friend’s stable, hoping to give them a memory that would settle into their bones and stay there. When we arrived, all but three of the steady, predictable horses were already spoken for. The only one…

The other day, while preparing one of my favorite meals, I reached for the pan where I’d just fried pork chops. Instead of rinsing it, I poured water straight into the sizzling skillet, watching the browned bits loosen and swirl like sediment in a creek bed. When I poured this…

Herbie was a kangaroo mouse with a taste for luxury. Not the kind you’d find in catalogs or corner offices, but the kind that came from Snowball’s belly — soft tufts of fur pulled gently through the bars of his cage to line his nest. Snowball, a long-haired white cat…