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_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…
The gastroenterologist (GI doctor) shut the clinic door and towered over me, strong, bronzed, and healthy. He checked my chart and saw I had lost 3 pounds. He abruptly barked at me about my “lack of effort” in gaining weight. He yelled that it’s as simple as forcing…
With CF, there are fights to live taking place in the hospital. And then there are fights to live taking place in the streets and in political offices. Germs will always be out to kill us — we’ve got to accept that. But do we need to accept…
Jan. 14, 2017 was the worst day of anxiety I’d had in the five months of waiting for my lung transplant. A frantic, nearly palpable tension was in the air. After five confident months believing the “light at the end of the tunnel” was rebirth, rather than…
“I can give something to relax you,” the doctor says. I stiffly nod, neck taut and arm outstretched for an arterial blood gas test. The doctor holds up a syringe — a drop of shiny liquid is squished between needle and plunger. It’s the purest looking substance…
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