Tuesday 3rd September - My Oxygenated Life

 It is Pulmonary Fibrosis Awareness Month. I guess if were a member of one of the various charities which support people with Pulmonary Fibrosis I would have realised this in advance. 

I follow the bl9g of the American Pulmonary Fibrosis Association (PFF) which is where I heard about it. Action for Pulmonary Fibrosis is the equivalent British organisation, and there is also a European Association. 

If you follow the link to Action for Pulmonary Fibrosis,  please think hard before you watch the video; it's a tough watch. 

I am almost (fingers crossed) at a conclusion of my journey towards sorting out my home oxygen requirements.  I was hugely apprehensive about the assessment this afternoon as previous experiences with respiratory assessments have been - difficult would be an understatement. I needn't have worried. The two lovely respiratory nurses demonstrated such excellent listening skills and such a wealth of knowledge, experience and understanding that I was able to relax.

After a few tests such as doing 'sit-to-stands' for a minute, with oxygen support (phew) and trying to measure something or other in blood taken from my ear (only slightly easier than getting blood from a stone it seemed), they delivered the verdict. I need 1 litre per minute continuously if I am inactive, and 6 litres per minute if I am active. Sorted. 

I don't need to worry about 'how much oxygen do I need to do this? Or that? Have I set the flow too high? Too low?' 

Not only that, but the extra equipment was being ordered as I left the consulting room, and was installed by teatime today. That was a speedy response. 

So here's a portrait of my new friend; and his twin brother will be arriving on Thursday to replace the old, lower-rated machine that we've had for years upstairs in the bedroom. 

This sweet little hand puppet of a dog was given to me by my daughter. I used it almost every day when teaching, with the younger children, or in piano and other instrumental lessons. Once I stopped class teaching he was just lying about, but now has a new and important job to do;

He is clinging onto the door handle from the hall into the sitting room to warn us not to rush in. There's about 10 metres of bright green oxygen tubing in a horrible heap on the floor, enough for me to get from the sitting room to the bathroom upstairs! Perfect!