Brad Dell is Deaf and was diagnosed with cystic fibrosis at 2 months old in 1993. He received a double-lung transplant from UC San Francisco in January 2017, then cochlear implants nine months later. He lives in Hawaii, where he was raised. Usually he’s traveling the world, chugging coffee, or devouring books. He also pastors Restoration Community Church and serves as the director of community content at Bionews, this site’s publisher.
I’ve been trying to write more. I promise. But my tacrolimus dose is pretty up there, and it’s getting on my nerves. Literally. Nerve pain from the medication, an immunosuppressant used in lung transplant management, has me…
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“Living On a Prayer” played as I pulled into an intersection. From the corner of my eye, I saw a car dart onto my street. A screech and a smash. T-boned, rammed into my driver door. Shrapnel-like glass…
“It’s all come full circle,” I repeated, rather exhaustingly, about two dozen times over the past two weeks when visiting family in Florida. Exactly two years ago, my family learned we’d have to leave Hawaii, my home…
On July 2, 2016, I awoke from a nightmare with a wheeze. In the movies, people awaken from nightmares with a gasp. But gasping takes air. I’d been suffocating for days. Days of tripping through a…
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…
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…
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…
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,…
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…
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…
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…
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…
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…
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