Brad Dell is a Deaf 27-year-old with cystic fibrosis. He received a double-lung transplant from UC San Francisco in January 2017, then cochlear implants nine months later. He now lives in Hawaii, where he was raised. Usually he's traveling the world, chugging coffee, mentoring college students, or studying theology. Otherwise, he's working as the director of columns at BioNews, the publisher of CF News Today. (OK, he's still drinking coffee while he works.) He writes to undo the taboo surrounding lung transplantation. Catch him on Instagram at @coffee.cats_I breathed 23 years of invisible illness before retching tan-green Silly Putty into city trash bins while leashed to a bulky, wheeled, metallic canister of oxygen. Twenty-three years of rotting beneath my skin before the disease turned inside-out. All eyes were on me as I puked, a…
What is victory for us? I know we crave a cure above all, but what is attainable in the meantime? When I began this column, titled “Victorious,” I viewed victory as a single objective: positivity. Living joyfully despite this horrific illness. And yes, I still think that is…
“A childhood disease.” That’s what they called cystic fibrosis back in my day. (Man, that makes me sound old. But that’s kinda the point of this column.) A childhood disease yet we grow old so fast. Scarred souls, battered bodies. Maybe death before our…
When I first met my lung transplant surgeon, she remarked that cystic fibrosis patients have a great post-transplant life expectancy because we tend to be best prepared for it. We know how to shovel pills by the handful into our mouths two to three times a day.
Military hospitals handled most of my cystic fibrosis (CF) care. Many members of the military worship pain (“Get some! Rub some dirt in it, hooah!”), and assume you do, too. CFers inevitably encounter intense pain throughout the treatment of their disease.
Kathleen belaying Brad as he climbs. Not quite near the top yet. (Courtesy of Kathleen Sheffer) There are times I feel especially mortal. Such as when I’m feet from the top of a rock climbing wall, and I realize I’m relying on a single rope…
Second in a two-part series about the role of anger in a CFer’s life. Last week, I wrote about a lifetime of anger because of cystic fibrosis. The fury boiled over during an episode of ICU psychosis and septic shock. I finally…
First in a two-part series about the role of anger in a CFer’s life. Life as a child with cystic fibrosis was grueling. I had frightening surgeries, hours of treatments each day, a cluster of never-ending infections ravaging my lungs and digestive system, and…
Mom and I had flown to Denver to meet a specialist and strategize treatment for my nontuberculous mycobacterium. Part of the clinic visit concerned treating my barren appetite and nonstop nausea. We’d tried nearly every anti-nausea prescription by then, and…
Ba-doop. A notification pops up. It’s an old friend: “Hey, Brad. How are you? It’s been so inspiring following your journey!” “Aw! I’ve been doing great, thanks.” Abruptly: “So, I know of a fantastic product…
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