Flip The Pancake - Life at Pancake Rocks

Chasing Air: My Quest for a Lung Transplant Journey (Part 4)

Christina Schulze — Thu, 15 Jan 2026 18:24:47 +0000

Waking up after a Double Lung Transplant

Waking up from surgery is always a bit surreal. Because of the medications, you usually don’t reach a true dream state. Most people describe it as falling asleep and then suddenly being awakened by voices, lights, and a heavy grogginess. Everyone reacts differently to anesthesia and medications. The side effects along with the procedure itself even periods of oxygen deprivation can all lead to some very “odd” experiences, including hallucinations.

Hearing my family and the care team wake me and tell me the surgery was a success is something that truly hits your very soul. I felt a flood of emotions all at once. I remember falling asleep before surgery thinking about my donor, and then waking up thinking about him again. Only this time, a part of him was inside me and thriving. Taking my first breath with his lungs was such a blessing from God. Never had I felt that kind of deep expansion in my lungs before. The air flowed in so effortlessly and kept going. I had to remind myself to breathe more deeply because I was so used to shallow breathing. Honestly, I still struggle with that at times.

After surgery, you’re still on oxygen, but at much lower levels than before. I believe I was on about 2 liters per minute, which is fairly normal. Mentally, though, that adjustment was immense. I had relied on high levels of oxygen for so long that the care team decided to slowly lower it without telling me exactly when, just so I wouldn’t panic. I know that may sound odd or even cruel, but the mental anxiety tied to oxygen dependence is intense. It almost feels like an addiction not because oxygen isn’t needed; but because your mind becomes convinced you can’t function without it. Even with their careful approach, I still had moments of anxiety as they lowered it. Over time, though, it became a gradual process of retraining my mind and body so that I could eventually leave the hospital without oxygen at all. That moment was both absolutely astonishing and incredibly scarey.

Another frightening thing they don’t always warn you about is the hallucinations. Between the medications, lack of oxygen, and the overall pandemonium of the ICU, your mind can create very real experiences that aren’t actually happening. I’ve had clients and friends tell me about hallucinations they experienced during hospital stays, and I experienced them myself. Even now, they’re so ingrained in my memory that they feel real, even though I know they weren’t.

I vividly remember “seeing” construction workers in the ICU, using forklifts, climbing into the ceiling, and drilling. To this day, I can picture their bright yellow hard hats and hear the drilling sounds in the main ICU hallway near the nurses’ station. I kept thinking, They can’t be doing this right now. Why are they here? How is this allowed? They’re going to get everyone sick. Internally, I was struggling with this dilemma and growing more distressed. I kept telling my mom and my boyfriend, now my husband, that it needed to be stopped. They tried to calm me and reassure me that none of it was happening, but I was so insistent and argumentative that they eventually just went along with it. As I became more alert, the hallucinations stopped, and when I later left the ICU, we even went to that exact spot so I could see for myself that nothing had been happening there. It was incredibly bizarre.

With a surgery this intense, you’re hooked up to just about everything imaginable. There are tubes everywhere inside and outside your body. I had at least four chest tubes coming out of my chest, draining excess fluid from the surgery. It was extremely uncomfortable. I don’t remember being in pain at that point, but I couldn’t move without a tube pulling or without needing help from several members of the care team. Instantly after you’re awake or at least feeling slightly less like you’ve been hit by a truck, the care team wants you sitting up and walking. This is critical to prevent blood clots, pneumonia, and other complications from being sedentary for too long.

That loss of independence is hard. You rely on others for nearly everything. At first, it feels comforting, but over time it becomes mentally draining especially for me, since I was hospitalized for 28 days and attached to chest tubes for so long.

Walking even one lap around the ICU was a major production. It took several nurses just to coordinate it. With all the machines still attached, it felt like preparing for a major trekking expedition like climbing Mount Everest just to walk a short loop. It was both exhilarating and alarming. But every single step and breath was a gift, one I didn’t take for granted.

Chasing Air: My Quest for a Lung Transplant Journey (Part 3)

Christina Schulze — Wed, 28 Feb 2024 03:40:32 +0000

"Well, what are we going to eat?" I breathlessly asked my dad. He was sitting at the counter in my apartment with my boyfriend (now husband) and brother. They were helping by "babysitting" me that day while my mom worked about an hour and a half away. She was a pharmacist at a small rural hospital and juggled her shifts between caring for me and her work responsibilities. My boyfriend stayed to assist me, and my dad often came over on weekends. With my six oxygen tanks (lovingly dubbed my R2D2 family) and an array of medical equipment, I felt like a high-maintenance oxygen enthusiast.

Surprisingly, I was turning a corner on my transplant journey. I had begun to accept my situation, and with the help of antidepressants, my mood swings had mellowed out. I found comfort in watching reruns of Seinfeld and Absolutely Fabulous (British comedy) while crocheting little butterflies. However, this was my life now. The dreams of having children or marrying my boyfriend were distant memories. Despite this, having my family around, talking with me, and simply being there was comforting. At this point, talking was a struggle; it required too much air that I didn't have anymore. I was ready to move on completely.

As the guys were debating the ins and outs of fast food, my cell phone rang with a restricted number. It wasn't unusual; my uncle, a parole officer, sometimes called from such numbers to check in on me. I casually answered, my voice timid and weak. "Hey, Christina. How are you doing? We have a transplant for you," my nurse's voice sounded surreal. A mix of relief and nervousness washed over me as I replied, "Really?" She shared what little information she could about the situation. It was December 30th, around 5 pm, and a rush of emotions flooded my mind. Excitement and nervousness intertwined with the realization that someone had died so I could have a chance to breathe again.

The call was brief, and as I hung up, I explained that we needed to go straight to the hospital for the transplant. We were prepared for the understanding that many things could go wrong, potentially leading to the transplant being canceled. Time was critical; lungs were only viable for up to four hours after death. My dad called my mom immediately to hurry down. Rushing to the hospital, we were ushered into a special surgical unit. Tubes attached, tests conducted, and the team introduced themselves, answering our questions. Despite all my preparations, I never imagined I'd be here at this moment. Yet, I was grateful to God for the opportunity to have my entire family with me before surgery. Saying goodbye one last time was a luxury many don't have.

Was I nervous? You bet your horses I was! But I was ready to move on, whether waking up surrounded by my family or awakening to the Lord. I just knew I didn't want to continue fighting for breath each day.

The team was amazing, and I was wheeled into a surgical closet as they prepared a room for me. Despite their apologies for the inconvenience, I was unfazed. Plus by now they were starting to give me some sedatives to calm me down and get me ready so I didn't care one bit about what room I was in. One nurse, in particular, stood out, offering silent prayers as she bustled around preparing everything. She was an angel to me, having witnessed so much in the surgical room. The whole team just made me feel so cared for and loved. The transplant surgeon was right there the whole time reassuring me throughout.

My heart was beyond stressed by this whole lack of oxygen thing. All that hard work had caused it to start to falter. The team had told me that if things kept going I would also require a heart transplant.Fortunately, it hadn't reached that point, but my heart required assistance from a bypass machine during surgery. That machine helps your heart to pump your blood and does most of the leg work for your heart. Due to this, I couldn't have an epidural. Which I didn't care not like I knew what the difference was with having it or not. The anesthesia team was having a hard time getting my lines in. From all their poking and prodding with needles in both my wrists I was going to pass out. I alerted the main doctor who said forget it just put her under and we can deal with it later. He was determined to get this through.

As I drifted off to sleep, I prayed for the 23-year-old man whose life was cut short and his family's difficult decision. I prayed that his lungs would breathe again and his soul find peace.

Chasing Air: My Quest for a Lung Transplant Journey (Part 2)

Christina Schulze — Mon, 12 Feb 2024 17:24:01 +0000

"This is it! I'm dying! I know it!" I frantically shouted between coughing fits and gasps for air. My eyes fixated on the pulse oximeter monitoring my blood oxygen levels. Anxiety flooded over me as the number plummeted into the 70s. Gasping, I struggled to breathe as each cough choked my swollen airways. Hot tears streamed down my face, and sobs started to rise. I couldn't do this; it was too much. How could I breathe? The thoughts flooded my brain. The words of support and comfort from my mom and the nurses fell on deaf ears. Was I crying out of self-pity? I didn't know anymore, or was I just scared of passing away? I cried out to the Lord deep in my soul.

About three months after being listed for a transplant in the hospital, I was receiving antibiotics, and the healthcare team was trying to stabilize me until my transplant. Having lived and worked in hospitals, I wasn't oblivious to the whole process. Witnessing patients pass away, death was not something that necessarily scared me. However, leaving behind loved ones and the pain they would feel was daunting. When all my friends were graduating college, getting new cars, houses, marrying, having children, I had to confront the fact that I was preparing for death. Denial still gripped my heart.

After experiencing several panic attacks, the main transplant doctor entered and sat with me. He calmly discussed the next steps as my health continued to decline. The prospect of being placed on a ventilator in the ICU, sedated and reliant on machines, loomed before me. He explained that if I didn't receive a transplant within 12 days, they would have to consider withdrawing life support.

He wanted to know my wishes alone, with no other family there, because he said that I wouldn't be able to make that decision being sedated. I acknowledged my family's likely reluctance but asserted my own readiness to let go if necessary. In that moment, amidst our conversation, his compassionate gaze and genuine concern reassured me. As we talked, he told me it was all under my control, and I just needed to hold on longer and fight through this. Realizing the depth of my struggle, I admitted my need for psychiatric support, a step I hadn't taken before in managing my mental health. With a blend of desperation and determination, I half-jokingly declared, "I need to see the psych doctors. I need help." He agreed.

It took some time to adjust to the new medication, but they also introduced me to a BiPAP machine. This contraption involved wearing a mask that forcibly directed air into my lungs, essentially doing the breathing for me. The sensation was incredibly awkward. There was such a challenge to surrender to the sensation of air being pushed into my body. This was so awkward at first to do and talk about panic attacks with this. It was a huge mental game to try and put it on and accept the air being forced in you. But as I lay in bed with the mask on, I couldn't help but feel like a character from Star Wars—Darth Vader, perhaps. Despite the initial weirdness, the BiPAP machine proved to be immensely beneficial. Additionally, a group of ladies performed Reiki on me during these sessions. While my mom remained skeptical of its efficacy, she noted that my blood oxygen levels would rise to around 90%, and my vitals would relax. Regardless, this all helped me to relax enough to just pray and talk with God about the future.

After about a week or two with this, I began to feel better and was eventually released to my apartment. It was December, with Christmas just around the corner. My boyfriend, who is now my husband, did his best to support me during this challenging time. I had visitors come to see me, and before all of this happened, I hosted a party so I could spend time with everyone I cared about one more time. You never know what the future holds, and I wanted to make every moment count. As I looked around at my friends and family, I realized that I didn't want to continue living this way any longer. Everyone around me was hurting, and I was ready to move on. I spent my days sitting on the couch with about 12 liters of oxygen flowing, still struggling to catch my breath. I was exhausted mentally and physically. To keep my spirits up, I watched funny sitcoms and crocheted little butterflies, but deep down, I knew this wasn't living.

One early morning, after a sleepless night around 5 am, I found myself staring out the window at the snow-covered park below. My apartment, perched six floors above, offered a beautiful view overlooking the vast park. Amidst the quiet, I remember spotting this runner braving the cold in the snow. Instinctively, I thought, "How silly and absurd it was to run in such freezing temperatures." But then it hit me—I would never even have that option. In that moment, I came to terms with the reality of my situation, realizing I was ready to move on and embrace the unknown of a transplant or death.

Chasing Air: My Quest for a Lung Transplant Journey (Part 1)

Christina Schulze — Fri, 26 Jan 2024 20:23:50 +0000

“Well, the other doctors usually send me in to talk with patients about needing a transplant. I have to tell you that you need to go on the list. You only have 6 months to live based on your lung function trajectory.” The doctor's words were direct, yet filled with care, emphasizing the urgency of the situation. He knew I was stubborn, dragging this decision out, and he was aware of my health journey, having just graduated pharmacy school with my doctorate.

Reflecting on those challenging times, completing pharmacy school with rotations while ensuring I stayed alive to walk down the aisle was incredibly difficult. Staring at him and trying to hold back the tears of acceptance, I caved in.

I was so tired of feeling defeated and angry at myself. I looked at his chart; the numbers of my lung function seemed distant, yet there it all was—my whole past several years all represented in a simple line graph plummeting down to the end of the page, the end of my life. I knew it, and I laughed through the tears at it and my silly stubbornness.

“Well, you know, only God knows when we will truly die.” That was all I could say. He smiled warmly and continued to tell me all about his experience with chronic lung disease and death. As a healthcare provider, I knew what he said was correct, that I did need this. As a young woman in her mid-twenties, I just screamed inside.

Cystic fibrosis handed me this 'wonderful' outcome, and I say that very sarcastically. This genetic disease disrupts the function of cilia in our lungs. As a result, over time, the buildup of mucus and bacteria in our lungs damages and clogs the airways, leading to a decline in lung function. The oxygen we breathe in has nowhere to go in our lungs and can't be absorbed by the body. The progression varies for everyone, depending on their unique situation, the bacteria that grow in their lungs, and the extent of the damage.

Upon my diagnosis with CF, I was informed that the average lifespan was around 18 years old. With medical advancements, this life expectancy has changed. Honestly, I never paid much attention to it because I was too busy living the life God gave me to the fullest. This was the reason I needed a double lung transplant. My lung function at this point, if I remember correctly, was around 20%.

While working full time as a pharmacist, I finally began embracing the use of oxygen, and honestly, I felt so much better wearing it. As I adapted to life with oxygen, the prospect of a lung transplant became a crucial consideration.

The whole process to determine if you are a candidate for a lung transplant is about a week long. You undergo various appointments to conduct comprehensive compatibility testing. Although every clinic may differ to some degree, most follow the same rigorous testing. They analyze every aspect of your blood to match you with the perfect donor, minimizing the chances of rejection—where your body doesn't recognize the lungs and attacks them. Rejection is one of the worst things that can happen after a transplant, and with lungs, your chances are higher for a longer time. After the week of testing, they call you to let you know if you are approved.

I received approval; however, based on my blood work, I was informed that several factors would make it harder to find suitable lungs. In essence, I would be waiting a while.

Undeterred, I returned to work and attempted to get on with my life as best I could, even going on a camping trip and float trip while dragging oxygen tanks with me. Why not?

Surviving the Frozen Tundra

Christina Schulze — Thu, 11 Jan 2024 02:20:20 +0000

Surviving the Frozen Tundra: A Chronic Lung Warrior’s Guide to Keeping Your Breath From Freezing.

Let me take you back to a time that I personally experienced. Picture waking up to the delightful symphony of birds happily chirping outside your window, savoring the breakfast you've generously provided—a feast of seeds. A smile graces your face as the warmth of sunlight embraces you through the clear window. Not a cloud in sight, the sky is a beautiful brilliant blue just beckoning you to venture there.

The outside world looks breathtaking, and your body feels unusually rejuvenated, as if you've enjoyed a deep, blissful sleep without any coughing interruptions all night. Inspired, you decide to step outside with determination. You are ready to conquer the day!

But then, the cold, harsh reality of winter sets in. A sudden, relentless coughing fit overtakes you, robbing you of your breath. Your chest tightens, airways spasm, and thick mucus triggers a coughing, choking sensation in your throat. As if that's not enough, your sinuses transform into a relentless waterfall, threatening to drown you. Violently coughing and gasping for air, you stumble back inside. Your right hand fumbles for your inhaler, pushing it obnoxiously, desperately trying to feel the medication in your lungs. Meanwhile, your left hand clutches the nearest support to prevent you from falling over. Panic takes over your very soul as you concentrate on getting your next breath.

Gradually, you regain composure eventually managing to sit down and breath normally for you. Though the ordeal leaves you completely drained of any energy you woke up with. Peering outside, a mix of frustration and resignation washes over you. You contemplate hibernating until spring and ordering food instead. Preferably Taco Bell.

This is just one of the challenges people with lung diseases face on a daily basis during winter. If you've never experienced panic attacks or had coughing fits that tear a muscle. Then I can tell you that winter can bring about these struggles. Even those suffering from acute lung infections can relate to this sentiment.

Bottom line, cold weather wreaks havoc on lungs. The rapid changes in air temperature and humidity cause irritation and spasms throughout the lungs. This bronchospasm, the technical term, essentially means our airways tighten and narrow. The colder and drier the air, the more severe the spasms can be. Extreme cold weather can even be life-threatening not only for chronic lung disease sufferers but for healthy individuals.

For anyone dealing with chronic lung diseases or acute lung illnesses, the following tips may help minimize the risk of bronchospasms:

Best advice: STAY INSIDE! DON'T GO OUTSIDE AT ALL! Hibernate until spring if possible. However, if that's not an option, consider the following:
Wear a scarf, ski mask, or other covering over your nose and mouth. Knitted coverings are my “go-to” for better breath-ability.
Avoid strong perfumes or odors, such as smoke or diesel exhaust, which can contribute to lung irritation. It's advisable to steer clear of perfumes if you have lung issues. I prefer a lightly scented lotion instead.
Stay hydrated by drinking plenty of fluids. Dehydration can worsen symptoms, making it harder to clear mucus during a coughing fit.
Consider taking medication to help thin secretions, such as Guaifenesin. Consult your doctor or pharmacist before adding any medications to your routine.
Exercise indoors, especially if you have chronic lung disease and are prone to severe bronchospasms.
Use your medications. If you must venture outside, ensure you have your rescue inhalers or oxygen, if used. Have an ample supply, especially for oxygen, as you may need to increase the flow during an attack.
Plan virtual doctor visits, and have items delivered instead of going out to pick them up. This is where I am back to using food delivery! Love it!!

Winter can be especially challenging for those with chronic lung conditions. Look out for yourself, communicate your limitations to those around you, and don't hesitate to suggest that others come to you instead of you going everywhere. There's no shame in prioritizing your health.

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Gearing up for my ‘Oil Change’: My Journey to Clear Sinuses!

Christina Schulze — Fri, 01 Dec 2023 20:26:08 +0000

For people with cystic fibrosis and chronic sinusitis there is one surgery that can be very important, sinus surgery. This is because the sinus cavities become compacted with mucus due to one’s body over producing mucus. This overproduction causes a backup and the cavities not being able to drain out all the mucus. This mucus then sits around building up and collecting every germ you inhale. Before you know it all the germs are having a college party in your head and you have a full on infection. The only way to help clear things out when it gets this backed up is having a sinus surgery where they can go in and suck it all out. What I like to consider my “oil change”. Having cystic fibrosis myself I occasionally need an oil change to clean it all out. When I say occasionally I mean pretty much every 5 years. Let me tell you it is not a fun joyous occasion but the results are amazing.

Thinking back on it all my very first sinus surgery was probably the worst surgery I have ever had. That is counting the double lung transplant too. Why? Because the amount of pain after was so tremendous it felt like a herd of wild rabid moles were burrowing all over in my head. To top it all off the doctor at the time had shoved I swear like 100 gauze pads in my nasal cavities after the surgery. So here I am waiting around for over a week but it sure felt like a year with gauze pads all in my head. Then I go back to his office where he yanks out the gauze like a mummy having it’s brains yanked out of it’s head. The experience was no trip at Disneyland. At least the mummy is dead but for myself I just felt this wave of pain and nasty blood gush all over. Not my idea of a good time.

Moving on to my second sinus surgery and after that lovely experience with the first I began to see a new ear, nose, and throat doctor. This time he had to fix my deviated septum, the wall area between your nostrils. Basically without getting into the surgery because I am definitely not a surgeon he broke my nose and then straightened it out. This time I didn’t have to relive the gauze experience again thankfully and ever since those two surgeries things have been better.

Now fast forward to my upcoming fifth sinus surgery!! I have to say that I am pumped for it!

To all my friends out there who have experienced this I believe you will agree about how you feel afterwards. Fresh and clean like having your oil changed! Out with the old!

Say goodbye to headaches, vision issues, no more snot building up everywhere draining down your throat, and no more infections ,well at least for awhile. These are just a few wonderful things you can look forward to after your “oil change”!

But the biggest bonus that happens after is your sense of smell comes back!!

After my first sinus surgery I was at the gas station and couldn’t believe that you actually smelled the gasoline. It was so strong! Isn’t that just wild?!?! I could smell it but just barely before the surgery. Not only does your smell return but with it your taste is better too. I can actually indulge on my favorite foods and be able to taste them.

That is another thing that is very odd especially for myself. The loss of your taste slowly happens over time so you kinda forget about it. I feel like right now since I can’t really smell at all when I eat or see food I almost am imagining how it tastes or used to taste to me. It is like your mind tricks your body to it. Only when something new is presented to you like your son shoving a dirty pair of underwear at you that you realize you can’t smell it. Which in that case is actually a good thing. There can be some benefits to not being able to smell.

So you may ask am I scared about it or nervous? Well yes and no. There is always a risk of things taking a nose dive down the road you don’t want to be on. You are going under general anesthesia so there are risks with that. But then you also have to decide how you want to live your life. If this will help fix all the issues I am having and prevent serious problems from happening then it is worth it.

Plus I’d love to be able to smell and taste my Taco Bell again!

Letter from Christina

Christina Schulze — Fri, 03 Nov 2023 18:29:31 +0000

Welcome to my life at pancake rocks! My name is Christina and I am a 15 year double lung transplant warrior who was diagnosed with cystic fibrosis at 16 years old. Regardless of the diagnosis, my health, and people telling me to slow down; I went out on my own and obtained my doctorate in pharmacy and became a licensed pharmacist.

I married a wonderful man who has stayed by my side through it all. We are blessed with two beautiful children by adoption and two sweet dogs (who are basically toddlers with fur). I have traveled and lived in Europe and dealt with many health issues through all of this.

Faith has led me through and to this point in my life where I wish to share my knowledge and experience to help inspire and encourage others with lung diseases or caretakers of those suffering.

Through life’s wild roller coaster ride, I know you have a purpose and your life can be a wonderful positive one even when the days seem dark and cold.

I am reaching out to you to trust in me and know that I have been through this too. Nothing is too taboo, scary or challenging to me. God gave me these trials so that I can give you the compassion of someone who has suffered through them.

Together we can do this and you are not alone through these uneasy scary times.

Many blessings,

Life at Pancake Rocks

Christina Schulze — Wed, 19 Jun 2019 20:04:55 +0000

Deep in the woods lies a dramatic landscape of various rocks stacked up in all sizes and shapes in a small creek bed. Nothing fancy like Niagara falls or anything like that; but just simple rocks that look like pancakes all stacked about. This beautiful hidden treasure captivated me as a young girl. I was fascinated by the beauty of the rocks and would walk all over them exploring every crevice.

The seasons would bring out the spectacular beauty that laid in this small creek bed. I loved it.

During spring one could hear the rushing sounds of the water as it gorged into the rocks and created a rapid. Just standing on the edge of the woods overlooking it you could feel the power of the water fill your soul. Then summer would bring lush greenery creating a secret hideaway to the majestic rocks. The wildlife would abound near the creek. Exploring the cool waters looking for turtles would bring so much excitement and fulfillment from a long walk.

Then the water would slowly flow away and the dry rocks would begin to fill with falling leaves covering their secrets. Winter would bring the snow falling and the once thundering stack of rocks would be covered in beautiful snowflakes like pancakes with powdered sugar sprinkled all over. I feel the most connected with this serene spot during this time.

This was my refuge. I began to escape to this little getaway when the world felt too heavy on my shoulders. When my health would start to decline and pressures seemed enormous; I could find my solace in these simple rocks all stacked up.

With the unending water constantly molding and cutting into them they transformed into a beautiful, impressive sight. God truly created a beautiful glorious space that has made such a lasting impression on my life. Like those rocks my life has endured a constant flow of worldly pressures that have cut and molded me into the person I am today. Yes it has been hard but I would not change it for anything because all the pain and sacrifices have given me faith, love, and hope. Life at pancake rocks is more than a place and I wish to share my home and soul to you.

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