by Simone McGeisey

Created on: October 02, 2008

REALITY OF COPD

In the summer of 1997, my world changed for the worse. My mother was diagnosed with the early stages of COPD. She had been having symptoms for a while, but due to no health insurance she didn't seek medical advice earlier.

If you are asking if my mom smoked, the answer is yes. She started smoking when she was 12 years old. She thought it made her look grown up. Of course when my mother started smoking, the warning labels weren't placed on cigarette packages. She stated many times if she would have known the risks she would have never started smoking. She tried many times to quit, but in the end nicotine always won.

In March of 2005, my mother's COPD had finally made her so ill she could no longer work. She was no longer able to perform simple tasks such as bathing, cooking, cleaning or walking from room to room without having to stop and lean over something in order to be able to catch her breath enough to finish her task. She could not even sit on a chair normally anymore. She sat with her elbows on her knees in order to be able to breathe sufficiently at rest. She could only lie comfortably on her right side when she slept. I used to watch her struggle to breathe and wish there was something I could do to take this horrible disease away from her. I compare observing someone with COPD to seeing someone locked in a clear receptacle full of water with no way out and having my hands tied and watching them as they drown. It's the most atrocious feeling, seeing someone you love so much suffer with this disease.

On May 20, 2006, my mother had an exacerbation of her COPD. I had to call the ambulance, and when the paramedics arrived to transport her, her oxygen saturation was down to 78, and she was breathing at 28 to 32 breaths per minute (normal rate being between 12 to 20). Her heart rate was over 150 bpm (beats per minute), and she was starting to hallucinate due to lack of oxygen. When we arrived at the hospital, they placed her on a BiPAP machine to see if that would help, which really didn't. She was given breathing treatments throughout the night, as well as other medications to try to get her heart rate and respirations under control; all of which failed.

After my mother was moved from the ER to a room of her own, the registration technician came in to get some information about my mom. She asked me if my mother had an advanced directive such as a living will. To my knowledge she didn't. But, I had a sickening feeling in my stomach, because

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