My mom is only her 40’s and this year was diagnosed with a condition called Pulmonary Fibrosis. This is a progressive lung disease that has no cure. She finished out this past holiday season and started 2025 out in respiratory pain and with reduced breathing capability. After a length of time and a crazy amount of testing she was finally diagnosed. She’s spent up until present day going to dozens of doctor’s and pulmonologist’s appointments, weeks of hospital stays, and months off work. She’s spent months on steroids, lowering her immune system, and required to be on oxygen. Unfortunately, she has no other option for treatment/life sustainment other than a double lung transplant. With this much time away and having had to get private insurance no longer being able to be on her employer’s, medical bills as everyone knows get dauntingly large real fast. The amount is into the 6-digits already and she hasn’t even received the transplant yet.

Not only is this one of the most complex and intensive corrective surgeries someone can go through, it has some of the most demanding and costly aftercare in medicine. Not to mention, a temporary relocation to Indianapolis to be within a certain distance of IU Health for a full month after transplant followed by lifelong medications and appointments. It’s going to be a long, long road for her. One step at a time, getting nearer and nearer to transplant day, she’s pushing through. But regardless of spirit, the weight of that amount of medical bills doesn’t lift, and you can’t just “forget about for now”.

Shes a mother, a grandma (or Mimi as she prefers), a sister, a daughter, a friend to many, and for lack of better terms: a badass. Like the terminator, but in mom form. Whether you’ve seen her at sporting events “herding cats” and cheering on her circus of kids or coming to our house to get your hair done for prom and other events (thanks mom I couldn’t even escape the high school girls when I went home) you know that she is quite a character. She’s a vessel of warmth, grit, and love. That she would do anything to help anyone she could.

All this to say: she deserves to continue being a badass. To be here for her grandkids and watch them grow up. And I know she will be. But she also deserves to do it comfortably and I’d like to help lighten the load during this fight. She’d never ask for help in a million years, but I will.

It’s unfair this happened. Even more unfair that it was unpreventable.

If you can contribute in any way: by donating, or just by sharing this with friends and family, I’d appreciate it. She appreciates it. And her grandchildren appreciate it.

Thank you for anyone reading my short novel. I’ll keep everyone updated, and I’m hoping all the news ahead is good!