I was taken to another room by a nurse who sat me next
to a machine with a bellows and a large display screen. Coming out from the machine
was an arm which held various tubes and ended in a mouthpiece. I would be doing
two tests. In the first my lung capacity and flow would be tested. In the
second my ability to transfer oxygen and carbon dioxide through my lungs into
and out of my blood would be tested.
I sat forward in the chair, took hold of the
mouthpiece and breathed normally. The rise and fall of my lungs made a wave
pattern on the display screen. At her command, I took in a sharp, deep breath
and immediately pushed it out as fast as I could and carried on exhaling hard.
Keep going, she shouted, gazing at the display screen. I kept exhaling. Keep
going, she shouted. I kept exhaling, even though I couldn’t feel any air coming
out. Keep going, she shouted. I began to get a little lightheaded. That’s it,
she shouted, and I let go of the mouthpiece and began to breathe normally.
Now we need to do it again, she said. I smiled, very
pleased that I’d managed to do the test and that my ribs hadn’t felt sore. We’ll
select the best of three attempts, she said. But take your time, we’ll only go
again when you feel ready. I took a
minute and then repeated the test. Both my next attempts felt much the same as
the first. Then we turned to the second test, which was done on the same
machine but involved a different setup.
This time I took in a deep breath and held it for 8
seconds before breathing steadily out. On the inhale, the machine gave me a
small dose of test gas (a mix of carbon monoxide and helium) which would mark
the transfer of oxygen and carbon dioxide in the capillaries of my lungs.
Despite the apparent complexity, this test was a good bit easier to do than the
first. The only real challenge was to take in a large enough breath, it had to
be at least 90% of your lung capacity for the test to be done accurately. It
was again the best of three attempts.
I was given a printed report with two sets of figures
on it and went back into the clinic. Dr Riley was very pleased. We don’t often
see results like this, he said. My overall lung capacity had increased by 50%, measured
against the tests I had done before the operation. I had some minor airway
narrowing, due to having been a regular smoker from 14 to my mid-30’s, but this
would not require any medication. My lung functioning was at 123%, measured against the
average for my age, weight and height, while my oxygen and carbon dioxide
transfer was entirely normal. I would now be discharged from the clinic.
I was, of course, delighted. Then I confessed to him
that last year I had stopped using the inhalers I’d been given because I didn’t
feel they were doing me any good. Dr Riley smiled knowingly. I thanked him for
all his help and advice over the past six years. This was no lip service, I genuinely had a great deal
to thank him for. It was he who had advised me to take the surgical option as a
last resort, because it could only be known if a repair of my diaphragm was
possible after I was opened up. Furthermore, it was his prompt action of sending
me for a urgent scan after I complained of a pain in my abdomen whilst he was examining
me in 2015 that resulted in a large, malignant tumour being found which
required emergency surgery.
Thank you again, Dr Riley. Despite the pressures of
the NHS, you are doing a fantastic job.
How wonderful to hear something so positive, Paul! May you continue to enjoy good health.
ReplyDeletemarion
Thank you Marion. I hope so too.
ReplyDelete