The Beauty of Transformation
Photos/Paul Daughetee.
By Deborah Daughetee
I am a double-lung transplant survivor, and I thought that would be the scariest thing I'd have to face in my life. Then came COVID-19.
The transplant has left me immunosuppressed, so a pandemic is cause for great alarm. One day I was going to the grocery store with my husband, Paul, and the next, Paul was terrified he'd bring COVID-19 home to me when he did the shopping on his own. As things progressed, however, the fear lessened. We didn't take the pandemic any less seriously; we just realized that there were steps we could take to ensure our safety while still enjoying our lives. We survive and thrive even during terrible times when we embrace the beauty around us and commit to moving, even if it's in new directions, even if we're not exactly sure where we're going. All things move and change in life. We can survive them and even be beautiful as a result of them.
Wearing a mask wasn't new to me. After my transplant, I had to wear a mask everywhere I went. Not just any mask, but a special one with a HEPA filter to prevent any chance of infection. Since I had to wear a mask, I decided to make a fashion statement and bought one with lots of colors. Some people complimented me; most people looked askance.
My husband didn't wear masks until the pandemic emerged in March, but he liked my idea and bought some masks that depict from the nose down of Disney characters like Stitch and Winnie the Pooh. He gets compliments every time we go out. Neither of us gets sideways glances anymore because most everyone wears masks these days. It's become a part of our culture, even though a few people complain that masks violate their rights and refuse to wear them. I'm sure as soon as it's safe, people will stop wearing masks, but they will no longer be phased when people like me wear them at the doctor's office or when visiting a loved one in the hospital.
The pandemic brought the shutdown with it. Suddenly, restaurants and movie theatres were no longer viable sources of entertainment. Many of my friends binge-watched shows they missed on Netflix, Hulu, or Amazon Prime. Paul and I did that to some extent, but we were dealing with cabin fever by April. The question was, what can we do that would be safe for an immunosuppressed person?
We decided to go for a drive. At least, that's how it started; a drive through the desert. Then it turned into a chance for Paul to take pictures. Blooms of purple, reds, yellows, and whites draped the desert floor. Prickly pear put out intense magenta blooms while huge white flowers topped Joshua trees. The desert had transformed into a place of colorful wonder.
Paul and I are lucky because we are on a fixed income; we don't have to worry about losing jobs or having kids at home. So many families are struggling right now. But many people are using this time to try something they only dreamed about trying before. I read about a woman who had to stay home to take care of her daughter, but she turned this time into a chance to learn how to start her own business. She makes soaps and candles. She learned how to create a website for her store and how to create a marketing plan. Now she has a store online, and the orders are starting to come in. She said she's been wanting to do this for a long time but never had the time. So, while her daughter was doing her online classes, she got online herself and did some research. She hopes to make enough money that she won't have to worry about finding work, or at least so she can go part-time. Since her daughter loves making the soaps, it is something fun they can do together while teaching her daughter that anyone can be an entrepreneur. While things are still stressful for her, something wonderful has bloomed out of all this pandemic madness.
The desert flowers disappeared as we entered our hot summer months. I had been walking on my home treadmill and swimming laps in our pool, so I felt strong enough to go hiking. Red Rock Canyon is close and has numerous hikes for every level of hiker. Over the weeks of walking in the park, I discovered numerous micro climes. I even found a little wetland where cattails shot up toward the sky taller than my 5 '7” height and where a pinion pine hung out with holly oak. There were so many birds there I couldn't keep track of them all. In other areas of the park, we hiked among juniper and cedar trees, in some cactus and Joshua trees. Every trail looked different every time we walked it; perhaps it would be new footprints from people and their dogs, or the presence of a chipmunk or a rabbit or a lizard sunning itself on a stone, or that fact the light played differently on the face of the rocks. The canyon is ever-changing.
The pandemic has been very hard on families who have had significant events in their lives, yet it is impossible to get to them. A friend's grandfather died in Costa Rica. Costa Rica has a 14-day quarantine, and they couldn't afford to spend two weeks away from work. It was impossible for them to attend, which was heartbreaking. They and their family in Costa Rica worked together to set up a Zoom call so that they virtually attended the funeral. Afterward, I asked my friend about it, and she said that it was better than she expected. The family in Costa Rica felt supported and loved, and she could pay her final respects. It was a huge relief to attend and not have to pay the money or chance the health hazards of flying to Costa Rica.
Paul and I began to drive further afield, exploring the beehives of Valley of Fire and picnicking at Seven Sisters. Then we ventured even further north, discovering the Oak Springs Trilobite Site. Trilobites were marine animals that are now extinct but have been immortalized as fossils in shale; fossils you can find at Oak Springs. We never did find any Trilobites, but we did find the imprint of fossilized leaves in some of the shale pieces. We walked through the juniper trees, hopping past all the holes that people have dug looking for fossils. As I walked and bent down to look at pieces of shale, then straighten up and walk further, I realized how strong I'd become. The elevation is 5,700 feet, and while I did get short of breath at times, I was still strong and could stand, squat, and walk without any help. The transformation from a weak woman recovering from a lung transplant to a strong woman able to hike at altitudes was invisible. Just suddenly, there I was, strong like I imagined myself to be.
With the pandemic, medical professionals had to transform into a completely different way of doing business. Suddenly, my medical appointments became video appointments. In the case of my lung transplant clinics, the doctors had me get a hand-held SPO2 device so I wouldn't have to go into a hospital to get my spirometry numbers. Our visit now happened over the phone using their video app. It was the same with all of my doctors on follow-up appointments and even pre-op appointments.
Numerous people have told me that their doctor visits have become video visits, and they are delighted with the process. It not only saves us all from coming in contact with a contagious patient waiting to see the doctor; it is an incredible time-saver. This is one transformation I hope will become permanent.
We continued to drive and discover beautiful and historic areas in northern Nevada until we came to Cathedral Gorge State Park. The park is known for its towering spires and slot canyons that go on forever with walls so close together you have to turn sideways to get through. You can explore these canyons to your heart's content, keeping in mind social distancing, meaning waiting for someone inside one canyon to come out before entering.
When you view the canyon from the top viewing area, you can see the spires that reach up to the heavens, spires that give the gorge its name. Like the desert, the landscape here is ever-changing. The formations are soapstone, which is incredibly soft. Wind wears the rocks down to sand, blowing it away, and rain melts the canyon wall. My husband called the slots fractal canyons because of the different repeating designs each of the canyon walls displayed.
People are like the soapstone spires or the ever-changing desert, and the pandemic is like the wind and rain, and the seasons slowly transforming us. Little by little, our culture is changing, whether attending funerals by Zoom or suddenly having the time to start a new business. Whether it be the normalization of mask-wearing or virtual doctor visits. Or whether it's just a lung transplant survivor getting stronger and stronger while taking the time to enjoy the beauty of the great outdoors. We are in the midst of a transformation. How much of these changes will stay and how much will fade away as we defeat COVID-19, no one can say.
Now that the shutdown is easing, casinos, restaurants, and movie theatres have reopened. All have implemented changes like rigorous cleaning protocols and plexiglass barriers. It is our willingness to transform that makes life safe—even with COVID-19.
Deborah Lynn Smith Daughetee has spent most of her career writing and producing such television shows as Murder, She Wrote; Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman; and Touched by an Angel. She has published short stories in magazines and anthologies, including the Bram Stoker award-winning Dark Delicacies. In addition, she has also written audio dramas set in the world of the 60’s classic television show, Dark Shadows, including her Scribe award nominated The Lost Girl. Most recently, Debbie created Kymera Press, a comic book publishing company that supports women in comics. She writes the comic series, Gates of Midnight, which was winner of the 2019 Irwin Award. She travels the country with her husband Paul attending comic book conventions where they sell their titles.
Probably the most interesting thing about Debbie is that she is a double lung transplant. Please become an organ donor. It saves lives.
Thank you for visiting Humanities Heart to Heart, a program of Nevada Humanities. Any views or opinions represented in posts or content on the Humanities Heart to Heart webpage are personal and belong solely to the author or contributor and do not represent those of Nevada Humanities, its staff, or any donor, partner, or affiliated organization, unless explicitly stated. At no time are these posts understood to promote particular political, religious, or ideological points of view; advocate for a particular program or social or political action; or support specific public policies or legislation on behalf of Nevada Humanities, its staff, any donor, partner, or affiliated organization. Omissions, errors, or mistakes are entirely unintentional. Nevada Humanities makes no representations as to the accuracy or completeness of any information on these posts or found by following any link embedded in these posts. Nevada Humanities reserves the right to alter, update, or remove content on the Humanities Heart to Heart webpage at any time.