Erasing the stigma of supplemental oxygen so that we can breathe again
Oxygen isn’t a symbol of weakness — it’s a tool for survival
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There are moments in life with chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD) that divide everything into the before and the after. Some are dramatic, such as the first hospitalization or the first time you realize that stairs have become mountains. But others arrive quietly, almost shyly, yet still manage to rearrange your entire world.
One of those moments happened to me in a pulmonologist’s office on an ordinary weekday afternoon. I didn’t know I was walking into a resurrection.
I’d been living on less and less air for so long that I didn’t recognize the slow dimming of my own body. I thought I was just tired and that the heaviness in my limbs was age, stress, or the weather. I thought the fog in my mind was grief or distraction, and the tightness in my chest was something I could push through if I just tried harder.
I didn’t know that I was starving for oxygen until the respiratory therapist placed a cannula in my nose and turned on the oxygen. I expected, well, nothing, or maybe a little help. I didn’t expect the world to tilt back into place.
The first breath felt cool, like mountain air slipping into a long‑shuttered room. I didn’t realize how hot my body had been running. The breath didn’t stop halfway down the way my previous breaths had been doing. Then something even stranger happened: My shoulders dropped, my jaw unclenched, and my heart stopped pounding so loudly in my ears. I hadn’t realized how much of my body had been bracing itself just to stay alive.
I felt myself coming back to life. It wasn’t dramatic — no angels were singing and no spotlight shone down. It was more like someone had quietly turned the lights back on inside me. The room didn’t change — I did. My brain, which had been running on fumes, suddenly had enough oxygen to stop sounding the alarm. My body, which had been fighting for every breath, finally got to rest. I felt cool and calm. I felt like myself again.
People talk about starting oxygen therapy as if it’s a medical milestone, a line item on a chart. But for many of us, it’s a spiritual moment. A moment when the body whispers, “This is what breathing is supposed to feel like.” A moment when you realize you’ve been living in survival mode for far too long.
I walked into that appointment thinking oxygen was a sign of decline. I walked out understanding that it was a lifeline — a beginning, not an ending.
Every time I turn on my concentrator now — every time that cool air fills my lungs — I remember that first breath, the one that gave me back to myself.
Rewriting the story we’ve been told
There’s a stubborn stigma around oxygen, especially in rural places like where I was raised. Folks whisper about “getting put on oxygen” like it’s a punishment or a final chapter. But that first breath taught me something different: Oxygen isn’t a symbol of weakness. It’s a tool for survival. A bridge back to the life you’re still meant to live. If anything, it’s an act of courage to choose the thing that helps you breathe.
If you’re reading this and you’re scared of oxygen — scared of what it means, of how it looks, of what people will think — I want you to know this: Your body deserves air. Your brain deserves clarity. Your heart deserves rest. And you deserve the chance to feel that cool, steady calm that comes when your lungs finally get what they’ve been begging for.
That first breath didn’t just give me oxygen. It gave me permission to live again.
Note: COPD News Today is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always consult your physician or other qualified healthcare provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of COPD News Today or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues about chronic obstructive pulmonary disease.
Barry Jiehn
I’ve been to that movie before. When I first started wearing oxygen I hid it from
My friends thinking they would think it was a sign of weakness. I soon learned. And I didn’t care what the thought.
Beth Thorpe
I love this so much - thank you.
David A Sylvester
Breathe On my friend👍
Monica Kaufmann
Thank you for broadening my perspective about O2. I have been viewing it as a sign of defeat and downward progression. Fortunately, I’m not at the stage you were in when you began using oxygen, but I do recognize a decline in my function. I would like a more active physical life…perhaps it’s time to talk to my pulmonologist.
I find your column very helpful and wish you the best.
Teri Svoboda
It took me several years after being diagnosed with COPD and prescribed oxygen that I actually wore it out in public. I was irrationally embarrassed and ashamed to be seen with it. I appreciate you sharing your story. I hope it helps others not to be afraid to go out in public without their lifeline.
Joan P. Napolitano
Great article. It took me a long time to stop being embarrassed in public with the 02. Now it dosen't bother me. Lugging a portable on wheels bothers me. I am getting weaker (had pneumonia in April and have not yet fully recovered) and it's harder to pick it up and put it in the car. But what can I do? I need the oxygen flow to be at a certain level.