It was a day pretty much like most other days working in pulmonary rehab. We were expecting a new patient to come in for his initial assessment before starting the program. He walked in right on time. His name was Gus, he was 78 years old, average height and weight, thinning gray hair, and glasses. I didn’t expect him to be much different from any of the other older male patients I worked with.
Part of the pulmonary rehab initial assessment is taking a health history. I sat across the small table from Gus and was going down the list of medical history questions on my form. Shortness of breath? Cough? Productive cough? He answered each question.
“Smoking history?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said.
“How many packs per day when you were smoking the most?” I asked.
“Four.”
I stopped and said, “I’m sorry Gus, what was that? It almost sounded like you said four packs of cigarettes per day.”
“That’s right,” he responded.
“Um, four packs a day? That’s a lot. Can you tell me about that?”
“Well, it was World War II, and I was in the Pacific. I was a Morse Code operator, a “radio man.” They had me in a little room by myself. The messages came in constantly. It never stopped—so neither could I. I knew that if I slacked off and a message didn’t get through, somebody could die. So, I had to stay awake and alert. They gave us cigarettes for free and said smoking would help keep us awake.”
I learned that day that no matter what the men and women in my program were going through now related to their COPD, there was so much more to them than what I saw that day. They were so much more than their disease. They all had childhoods with hopes and dreams, grew up, had that first job—and that first love. Whether they worked in their homes or elsewhere, they worked hard and took a great deal of pride in their work. When duty called, they left home and did what was required. And some of them were even heroes.
I learned that day that Gus—and every other patient I ever had in the past, had now, or will have in the future—they were all so much more than their disease.
What about you? If you have COPD, is it hard sometimes to think of yourself as anything but someone with COPD? You may be feeling that having COPD has led to a loss of what you were once able to do. Does this ever cause you to feel as if COPD has taken over, and your life is now all about nothing more than trying to not be short of breath? Maybe you’re using supplemental oxygen and that makes your outside appearance different than it used to be.
My friends, all your life experiences so far go into you being who you are. All of them. You’re still the same person you were before COPD, and you always will be. It’s just that now you are you—in a new set of circumstances. Sometimes it might not seem like it, but you are so much more than your disease.
You might look at it this way… If your life is a book, when you were diagnosed with COPD, it’s like you turned the page to start a new chapter. It’s a new chapter, but you are still the main character. You are still you. And your story is far from over. You are so much more than your disease.
Do you feel like you are more than your disease, like the same person you were before you were diagnosed with COPD? Was it ever hard to see yourself as the real you, apart from being a person with COPD? If so, how did you get yourself from where you were, to where you are now?
Let’s talk. I look forward to hearing from you!