How I learned to make myself heard by hawks and doctors

When I was a young girl, I had a hen named Wimpy. She got her name because she had a game leg and limped when she walked, but that limp never slowed her determination. Wimpy laid 12 eggs and rolled them, one by one, to her nest. Then she settled herself over them like she had all the time in the world. I checked on her every day, a little girl watching a limping hen do something remarkable.

When the eggs finally hatched, 12 tiny chicks tumbled out into the world. Life on a farm teaches you early that joy and danger often sit side by side. One chick drowned in a washtub full of water. Another was snatched by a hawk right in front of me. I screamed — loud enough to shake the air — and whether it startled the hawk or simply annoyed him, he let go. The chick fell to the ground, shaken but alive.

That scream stayed with me. I didn’t know then that I’d need it again as an adult living with chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD).

Recommended Reading

Feb. 4, 2026 News by Marisa Wexler, MS

Mucus-based test shows promise for measuring health of lungs in COPD

Carry your voice with you

Chronic illness has a way of shrinking your voice if you let it. I’ve sat in exam rooms where my symptoms were brushed aside, where my concerns were minimized, and where I felt myself slipping into the polite quietness Appalachian women are raised to carry. We don’t want to be a bother. We “make do.” We wait our turn. But COPD doesn’t reward silence. It demands clarity. It demands persistence. It demands that same fierce, protective voice I used on that hawk.

Sometimes advocating for yourself feels like rolling 12 eggs to a nest with a crooked leg — slow, deliberate, and harder than it should be. Sometimes it feels like watching danger circle overhead while hoping someone else sees it, too. And sometimes it feels like you have to raise your voice — not in anger, but in insistence — to make sure your concerns don’t get carried off by the wind.

Wimpy’s chicks grew strong. When auction day came, they brought top dollar, and I stood there as proud as any little girl could be. Wimpy, the hen who limped, had raised a brood worth celebrating. That memory reminds me that strength doesn’t always look like strength. Sometimes it limps. Sometimes it trembles. Sometimes it sits patiently on 12 eggs until they hatch.

Living with COPD means collecting small victories wherever we can find them — a day with easier breathing, a doctor who finally listens, a treatment plan that fits, a moment when we feel seen, instead of dismissed. Those victories matter. They add up. They remind us that even when the body struggles, even when danger swoops in, even when we have to scream to be heard, something good can still come out of the fight.

If you’re living with COPD or any chronic condition, here’s what I want you to carry with you: Your voice is not too loud. Your concerns are not too small. Your story is not an inconvenience. You deserve to be heard the first time — not after the hawk is already in the air.

And if you need to summon that deep‑down scream, the one that comes from the part of you that still protects what matters most, then do it. Wimpy taught me that determination doesn’t always walk straight. But it always shows up.

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.