Victorious - a Column by Brad Dell

Part two of a series. Read part one. Last week, I wrote about how disheartened I felt that many lung transplant centers refuse to help cystic fibrosis patients with Mycobacterium abscessus complex (Myco Ab), which is a species of nontuberculous mycobacteria (NTM). Myco Ab makes transplant…

At some point in the eighth grade in 2008, I drank some bad water. Later, I vomited and some of that yuck liquid aspirated into my lungs. That invasion carried with it a battalion of crack marines, nontuberculous mycobacteria (NTM), to join the well-weathered forces…

After 37 hours of travel, I landed in Belgrade, Serbia. I hopped in a cab and rolled past rows of rusted relics — airplanes of various centuries, including the rotting wreckages of NATO planes that once carried disastrous payloads during the ruinous Yugoslav Wars of the 1990s.

I’m flyin’ high. Or maybe flyin’ buzzed. My transplant docs say “drink only in moderation,” and I am, smuggling sips via a straw tucked into my N99 mask. It’s a pathetically tiny plastic cup of white wine, but evidently, I can’t handle much. Don’t judge. I know people…

Confession: I failed kindergarten. It was open house night and my teacher showed my parents a line of class self-portraits. There were probably some overly large heads and outlandish skin colors, but you’d be able to tell they were drawings of humans. Then my parents saw mine: a…

  It starts with chemicals too small to see. Too little of this, too much of that. An imbalance. It becomes a dulled personality. A mixture of confusion and self-doubt morphing to disinterest. A void. It becomes feeling awake while asleep and feeling asleep while awake. It becomes…

I’m dead-beat. Bone-tired. Wasted. But I ain’t dead-dead and I ain’t lung-tired. And with my lung transplant, I guess you could say I’m recycled, rather than wasted. Maybe these jokes don’t make sense. I am exhausted, after all. My glasses are battered, and so are my shoes. I…

Mom never had to force me to eat my veggies. Matter of fact, she tried to force me to eat less of them. There was nothing quite as refreshing as coming home from a stressful day of middle school and popping open a can of black-eyed peas or a…

Moonlight twinkled off Eagle Scouts’ accomplishment pins (earned for demonstrations of helpfulness, generosity, and loyalty) as they wound rope around my friend and me — tying it off with a knot perfect enough to merit yet another accomplishment pin. Sweaty pits and unbrushed teeth polluted lake air that…

Spring 2017 It was a historic rainfall in Silicon Valley, the likes not seen since the days of Noah and his big boat. Los Gatos Creek spilled over and the neighborhood electricity blew out — a true tragedy in Tech Titan Valley. Mom sparked candles perfumed with…