Columns

I was on one of my “let’s see where this road goes” adventures, the kind with those blind curves you don’t see until you’re already in them, when I noticed something unsettling. My portable oxygen concentrator (POC) wasn’t giving me oxygen with every breath. It wasn’t a dramatic failure, just…

There are times in life when illness doesn’t just slow you down— it rearranges you. I didn’t see it happening at first. I thought I was simply tired or behind, in need of a weekend to catch up. But slowly, almost quietly, I began to lose the version of myself…

There are days when I realize my world has grown smaller without my permission. After illness, the boundaries of daily life contract almost imperceptibly. A trip that once felt routine — like driving to Tamarack, West Virginia, a place I’ve known for years — suddenly feels foreign, as…

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,…