Katie's college essay on her transplant
Nov. 25th, 2010 04:49 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jadelyntateThought you all might find this interesting--its my sister's college essay.
Theodore Roosevelt once said, “... it is hard to fail, but it is worse never to have tried to succeed.” When I was five months old, I was diagnosed with a genetic lung disease called Cystic Fibrosis. Throughout my life, this has affected everything from the way I ate to what sports and extracurricular activities I should or should not do at school.
Despite the difficulties this has placed on my day to day life, I have always been determined to try and live as normally as possible. In elementary and middle school, I played the flute, an instrument that requires a high lung capacity. I joined the cheer-leading and volleyball teams in the fifth and sixth grades, two sports where quick movements and stamina are essential. I work out weekly and I swim as often as I am able. I grew up believing that having a lung disease does not mean I am limited; never have I used my disease as a crutch to give up nor give in.
This belief was thoroughly tested in November 2006 when I was officially put on the lung transplant list. By that time, my lung capacity had diminished drastically and everything I was so used to I could not longer do. I was forced, by doctors orders, to quit all sports and the flute. I was told to slow down—this was not something that came easy as I had always led a very active life. In December of that same year, however, I acknowledged my physical limitations when I was moved to the top of the transplant list in my region—I was fifteen and I couldn't breathe.
The following eight months saw more changes than even loss of sports or a musical instrument. In January 2007, my parents and I moved from our home in Fort Garland, Colorado so we would be closer to the hospital in case of an emergency. Thanks to The Lung Connection, a non-profit organization, we found housing in a small condo just outside of Aurora, a fifteen minute drive to the hospital I was now being seen at.
In March, I was put on round the clock oxygen—even when sleeping, I was forced to use a BiPAP machine to help me breathe easier. Never before had I been tethered and I didn't like it. In May, I began using a wheelchair when outside my own home—the simple act of walking to the car would cause me to lose my breath. Even inside, I could hardly move to another room in the house without having to pause once or twice to get my breathe back.
During this time, I had moments of uncertainty and fear—I was fifteen and not ready to die but neither was I ready to give up the lungs I had had since birth. My parents, fearing I would not live to get the new lungs, made that summer the best they could—anything I wished to do, they did their best to give it to me. The Renaissance Fair, the zoo, concerts; my summer was full of activities. Despite the wheelchair and the oxygen machine, I enjoyed myself immensely—it was the most active I had been in some time and I loved it.
August 7th, I went to a doctors appointment. Once or twice a month, I would spend time in the hospital where I would remain isolated for weeks at a time. These visits were to keep me as healthy as possible given the circumstances. I would undergo medicated treatment as a way of prolonging the health of my lungs. This particular doctors appointment ended with my physician wanting to admit me for one of these treatment sessions. However, due to my sister having plans to return to college in a weeks time, the doctor agreed to postpone my hospital stay.
That night, we received word that they had found a set of lungs that fit my blood, tissue, and size types.
By ten that evening, I had been admitted and tested for the possibility to receive the lungs.
More often than not, transplantees have what is called a dry run; though the hospital will call to say they have lungs, for one reason or another, the lungs will become unavailable. We had been warned the possibility of this happening was high and as the hours passed, we started to wonder if this was a dry run. It wasn't. I went into surgery at nine am, August 8th, 2007. The procedure lasted nine hours and by six that evening, I was breathing with a new, healthy set of lungs.
My recovering, in comparison to others, has been quick and relatively painless. I remained in the hospital for almost a month and the biggest complications I suffered was an allergic reaction to an anti-rejection medicine that caused me to have seizures. At one point, I stopped breathing and had to be resuscitated. I remained in Aurora for a additional two months before my physicians agreed I was healthy enough to move back to Fort Garland.
Since then, I have returned to my active lifestyle. Though I have not rejoined any athletic teams nor continued playing the flute, I have become, as my mother would say, a social butterfly. I spend time with my friends, hanging out at the local community center. I spend time with my sister at her college, going to plays, volleyball, and football games. I have discovered a passion for photography and hope to make that my major in college. I am involved with the high school Spirit team. Though I was unable to graduate on time due to my medical issues interfering with my school work, I was nominated and won Homecoming Queen and currently possess a 3.5 GPA.
My life has been difficult since birth but I have pushed forward and persevered. If my lung transplant has taught me anything, it is that life is a gift that we quite often take for granted. My hope for the future is that I can live a life full of laughter, love, and joy.
Theodore Roosevelt once said, “... it is hard to fail, but it is worse never to have tried to succeed.” When I was five months old, I was diagnosed with a genetic lung disease called Cystic Fibrosis. Throughout my life, this has affected everything from the way I ate to what sports and extracurricular activities I should or should not do at school.
Despite the difficulties this has placed on my day to day life, I have always been determined to try and live as normally as possible. In elementary and middle school, I played the flute, an instrument that requires a high lung capacity. I joined the cheer-leading and volleyball teams in the fifth and sixth grades, two sports where quick movements and stamina are essential. I work out weekly and I swim as often as I am able. I grew up believing that having a lung disease does not mean I am limited; never have I used my disease as a crutch to give up nor give in.
This belief was thoroughly tested in November 2006 when I was officially put on the lung transplant list. By that time, my lung capacity had diminished drastically and everything I was so used to I could not longer do. I was forced, by doctors orders, to quit all sports and the flute. I was told to slow down—this was not something that came easy as I had always led a very active life. In December of that same year, however, I acknowledged my physical limitations when I was moved to the top of the transplant list in my region—I was fifteen and I couldn't breathe.
The following eight months saw more changes than even loss of sports or a musical instrument. In January 2007, my parents and I moved from our home in Fort Garland, Colorado so we would be closer to the hospital in case of an emergency. Thanks to The Lung Connection, a non-profit organization, we found housing in a small condo just outside of Aurora, a fifteen minute drive to the hospital I was now being seen at.
In March, I was put on round the clock oxygen—even when sleeping, I was forced to use a BiPAP machine to help me breathe easier. Never before had I been tethered and I didn't like it. In May, I began using a wheelchair when outside my own home—the simple act of walking to the car would cause me to lose my breath. Even inside, I could hardly move to another room in the house without having to pause once or twice to get my breathe back.
During this time, I had moments of uncertainty and fear—I was fifteen and not ready to die but neither was I ready to give up the lungs I had had since birth. My parents, fearing I would not live to get the new lungs, made that summer the best they could—anything I wished to do, they did their best to give it to me. The Renaissance Fair, the zoo, concerts; my summer was full of activities. Despite the wheelchair and the oxygen machine, I enjoyed myself immensely—it was the most active I had been in some time and I loved it.
August 7th, I went to a doctors appointment. Once or twice a month, I would spend time in the hospital where I would remain isolated for weeks at a time. These visits were to keep me as healthy as possible given the circumstances. I would undergo medicated treatment as a way of prolonging the health of my lungs. This particular doctors appointment ended with my physician wanting to admit me for one of these treatment sessions. However, due to my sister having plans to return to college in a weeks time, the doctor agreed to postpone my hospital stay.
That night, we received word that they had found a set of lungs that fit my blood, tissue, and size types.
By ten that evening, I had been admitted and tested for the possibility to receive the lungs.
More often than not, transplantees have what is called a dry run; though the hospital will call to say they have lungs, for one reason or another, the lungs will become unavailable. We had been warned the possibility of this happening was high and as the hours passed, we started to wonder if this was a dry run. It wasn't. I went into surgery at nine am, August 8th, 2007. The procedure lasted nine hours and by six that evening, I was breathing with a new, healthy set of lungs.
My recovering, in comparison to others, has been quick and relatively painless. I remained in the hospital for almost a month and the biggest complications I suffered was an allergic reaction to an anti-rejection medicine that caused me to have seizures. At one point, I stopped breathing and had to be resuscitated. I remained in Aurora for a additional two months before my physicians agreed I was healthy enough to move back to Fort Garland.
Since then, I have returned to my active lifestyle. Though I have not rejoined any athletic teams nor continued playing the flute, I have become, as my mother would say, a social butterfly. I spend time with my friends, hanging out at the local community center. I spend time with my sister at her college, going to plays, volleyball, and football games. I have discovered a passion for photography and hope to make that my major in college. I am involved with the high school Spirit team. Though I was unable to graduate on time due to my medical issues interfering with my school work, I was nominated and won Homecoming Queen and currently possess a 3.5 GPA.
My life has been difficult since birth but I have pushed forward and persevered. If my lung transplant has taught me anything, it is that life is a gift that we quite often take for granted. My hope for the future is that I can live a life full of laughter, love, and joy.
