Columns

Last week I wrote about how lung transplantation isn’t the Boogeyman I once thought it was. After I had done my research, I finally considered being evaluated for a transplant. My doctors and I expected it to be at least a couple years before I’d need…

“OK, I have to go, Han. I’m sorry. I love you, OK?” “I love you, too.” My boyfriend leaned down, kissed my cheek, and walked through the hospital doors. He had just pushed my wheelchair inside the lobby, but this was only a drop-off — a…

There are two great fears in a person’s young life: “The Talk” and the Boogeyman. The Transplant Talk is an intertwining of the two for many with cystic fibrosis. My dad was deployed in Iraq when I hit puberty, so the duty of The Talk fell to my…

I was repulsed by my body. My arms were scarred and barren of muscle, thin as twigs. They hung from a bumpy, pale torso — bumpy from the ribs that protruded, the port-a-cath that sat beneath pockmarked skin, and the rubber feeding tube above my belly button.

FOMO. Fear of missing out. Ever heard of it? I don’t have a lot of phobias. Yeah, being alone in a dark room creeps me out, but I’m not afraid of needles, heights, snakes, public speaking, or even dying. When my boyfriend and I get…

Gaining weight can be just as difficult as maintaining lung function for many with cystic fibrosis. Most have heard people without CF joke that they wish they had our problem with gaining weight. But for those who experience the struggle of malnourishment and unstable weight, we know…

This afternoon, while browsing the fiction shelves at a local bookstore, I saw my own ghost. As I turned over a colorful paperback copy of Meg Wolitzer’s “The Uncoupling,” a small, optimistic cough flew past my left ear. At first, one. Then…

I’ve seen videos of people with cystic fibrosis, messaged other patients on the internet, and knew some as a child. But since the early years I barely have any memory of, I haven’t verbally spoken with a CFer. I had a phone interview today. The interviewer kept…

While making small talk with a friend last weekend, I asked what she had done that day. She shared that she had gone to class, worked in her professor’s research lab, and hung out with another friend — all before our conversation at 4 p.m. “Dang,…

I crawled into my closet and pulled out a dusty, battered Ultimate X-Men: Vol. 1. Sunray slivers peeked through the slightly-ajar door, lighting sections of the comic book as I read beneath my jackets on their hangers. I was in 10th grade and had just lost the…