Cosmic Joy

Oh, breathless wonder

Of sunsets and star-rises

On a distant world

Collateral Damage

At the beginning of the Covid-19 pandemic, I encouraged us to embrace the "strange grace" of the moment. Little did I know what that would mean for me.

In March of 2021, I received two doses of the Pfizer vaccine, the second on my 50th birthday. Following both doses, I experienced pressure-induced pain radiating down my left (inoculated) arm; with the pain being more severe and longer lasting after the second dose. Over the next few months, I lost range of motion in both shoulders, and was eventually diagnosed with bilateral frozen shoulder. (Apparently, it's unusual for this condition to cross over to the non-inoculated side, but c'est la vie, at least for me.) Fortunately, several months of physical therapy seemed to resolve my affliction. But unfortunately, this was to be the "good news" portion of my story.

And that's because in July of 2021, I coughed up a blood clot. A trip to the ER led to a CT scan which revealed multiple nodules in both lungs. Since that original finding, I've had two bronchoscopies, a needle biopsy, thorascopic lung surgery, several more CT scans, and a plethora of blood tests. The first bronchoscopy found three strains of an ubiquitous fungus, Aspergillus. Subsequent biopsies failed to confirm those results, but did detect fungal hyphae. And then, this past November, a second bronchoscopy uncovered something that the lab struggled to identify, ultimately saying it resembled Inonotus quercustris, a mushroom which grows on trees in Texas. According to the infectious disease specialist, while they are confident that my illness is due to a fungal organism, they cannot be definitive about that organism's classification.

In the meantime, I take my pills, and we monitor my lungs with imaging. The first anti-fungal medication, which I was on for six months, had some nasty side effects. (I lost 25 pounds and was easily fatigued.) Fortunately, the new one is better. (I've regained the weight, and my stamina is getting closer to normal.) Treatment was successful in resolving the initial nodules, but unfortunately, fresh ones seem to pop up on each CT scan, including last month's. (If my latest friend is still hanging around in June, I might have another needle biopsy in my future.) And yet, I've never had symptoms normally associated with pulmonary fungal disease. In fact, other than imaging, my test results have been consistently and frustratingly normal since this ordeal began.

But here's the bigger problem, fungal disease is typically seen only in those who have a compromised immune system, such as someone undergoing chemotherapy. And as I just alluded to, in spite of their best efforts, my doctors have failed to find in me any such immunodeficiencies. (The current theory is that I must have a rare undetectable genetic disorder; one that inexplicably waited fifty years before unveiling itself at this precise hour.) They don't necessarily deny the suspicious timing between my Covid vaccination and the discovery of my fungal infection, but they do dismiss that reality as mere coincidence. Needless to say, I remain unconvinced.

Two months after my first pandemic-related blog post, I wrote about the unintended consequences of our response to this event: "Every human intervention comes with a cost. And too often, we leap into action without considering the nature of that price or whether it is worth paying. This is partly due to our overly exuberant faith in the power of smart people and smart ideas. It is also, however, the product of our tendency to value some siblings more than others." (Again, the irony.)

I do not doubt that the Covid vaccines helped many. But I am equally certain that they harmed others. Under normal circumstances, such outcomes would be unsurprising. Clearly, however, we have been living in abnormal times. Some have demonized the vaccines; and some have divinized them. Unfortunately, the smart people who wield the majority of power in our nation fell into the latter camp, and so the vaccine injured have been left out in the cold to fend for themselves, like lepers.

One of the few doctors courageous enough to challenge the prevailing wisdom noted that she was not alone in seeing the problem, but that some of her colleagues were "willing to accept these vaccine injuries as unavoidable collateral damage in a mass vaccination program." Yes, any new technology, particularly a medical intervention, will inevitably produce collateral damage. But common decency demands that such harm be acknowledged, mourned, and redressed. To our great shame, we stubbornly refuse to love our wounded siblings, adding insult to their ignored injury.

Don't get me wrong, I like my doctors. And maybe they're right; maybe my situation is just a tragically absurd coincidence. Then again, maybe the vaccine did mess with my immune system in some weird manner. The uncomfortable truth is that neither of us know which version is correct. But it will never cease to frustrate me that they, along with the system to which they belong, prefer to conjure up a magical fungus fairy than to even contemplate an investigation into the inconvenient possibility of the vaccine's involvement. That is faith, not science, and certainly not good medicine.

Will my treatments conquer the mushrooms in my lungs? Will I find some kind soul whose scientific curiosity outweighs our toxic politics? Will the system embody the humility appropriate to a work of human hands? Will those who know better speak up if the system fails to act justly? Will the vaccine injured be made whole? Will we love as our Parent calls us to love? I do not know. But I have hope.

P.S. Thank you, Pfizer, for the 50th birthday present. Strange grace, indeed!

Treasure Trove

To claim hope

When darkness swallows

Gold of fools

True Leadership

Practical people

Always fail to hold our feet

To the fire of Truth

Tribal Politics

Howling mobs

Drunk on righteous rage

Sowing seeds

Friends & Family

Faces and places

Tsunami of memory

Burnt into my soul