From Ventilator to Victory

One of the injuries I suffered during the 2009 motorcycle wreck included having a collapsed lung. Due to my inability to take deep breaths, I was given a tracheostomy, commonly referred to as a trach, which meant that I was hooked to a ventilator to aid in my breathing. Because of the ventilator, I temporarily lost the ability to speak orally, as the trach bypassed my vocal cords.

The Ventilator

Understanding the Trach and Vent

A tracheostomy (trach) is a surgically created opening in the neck that leads directly to the windpipe (trachea). A tube is placed in this opening to help with breathing when a person cannot do so effectively on their own. In my case, the trach allowed me to receive oxygen and ventilation support when my body wasn’t able to maintain proper airflow.

A ventilator (vent) is a machine that helps with breathing. It delivers oxygen through tubing connected to the trach, ensuring air reaches the lungs. The vent can either fully or partially support the breathing process. My vent was a constant presence, often jokingly referred to by my respiratory therapist as R2-D2 from Star Wars.

Attached to the trach were various tubes and accessories, including a humidifier to keep air moist and prevent dryness in my airway. Another critical part of trach care was suctioning, which involved removing mucus and secretions that could build up and block the airway. A thin, flexible tube was gently inserted through the trach to clear out mucus and secretions. While the process wasn’t painful, it looked and felt unusual. Keeping my airway clean was essential to prevent complications, and I was fortunate to have a great medical team ensuring it was done properly.

Deep breathing was virtually non-existent for me at that time, as the ventilator took over the work of breathing. The dependency on the ventilator was so significant that every time I was moved from my hospital bed to my wheelchair, the trach had to be disconnected and quickly reconnected. Without it, I would rapidly start turning blue due to the lack of oxygen. My airway was exposed, making ventilation a non-stop necessity in my life at that time.

The ventilator regulated my breathing in a specific rhythm, which meant that any disruption, such as emotional distress, could trigger alarms. If I began to cry or became overly emotional, the ventilator would react by sounding those alarms, immediately alerting the nurses and therapists. In moments like these, my hospital room would fill with medical staff ensuring my oxygen levels remained stable.

The Trach

I quickly learned that suppressing my emotions was the easiest way to avoid triggering the ventilator’s alarms and the subsequent flood of medical attention. It was an adjustment, realizing that something as natural as expressing emotions could have such a direct impact on my physical well-being. During this time, I had to mentally adapt, finding ways to cope with my feelings without physically reacting in a way that could compromise my breathing.

Having a respiratory therapist was both a necessity and, at times, a welcome break. I had one during the day and another at night, but the one at night always had a good sense of humor. I remember how he’d jokingly insist that I should ditch my vent, calling it R2-D2 from Star Wars. While I wasn’t quite ready to part with it at the time, his teasing made the situation feel a little less heavy.

One of the more unnerving moments with my vent was the night my alarms went off unexpectedly. I was already in bed when something happened—I passed out. Thankfully, I was lying down when my blood pressure skyrocketed to a dangerously high level, 180 over 200. A crushing headache followed, and when I came to, my room was full of medical staff. No one had a clear explanation for what happened, but I could tell by their faces that it wasn’t something to take lightly. Moments like that reminded me how delicate my situation was, but also how quickly the team around me responded when I needed them most.

The Challenge of Independent Breathing

The Button and Oxygen

The respiratory physicians did not have high hopes that I could breathe without the ventilator. So when the main doctor left on vacation, the assistant physician came in and said, "We are going to try independent breathing." We knew this was a big deal because I had not had independent breathing for almost three months, which is a long time to be dependent on a ventilator. Most people are not on them that long, and when they are, they usually do not come off of them.

For the daytime, I would be off of the vent and back on it during the night. My mom physically had to sit in the room and coach me through the process, saying, "Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out." Since I had not done this on my own in so long, I needed to retrain my body on how it was done.

After a couple of days of this, that same assistant physician said, "Okay, she has been doing well. We are going to let her spend a night in the ICU without the trach, for observation, and see how that goes." Needless to say, I was nervous, spending the night in the ICU, breathing on my own with no trach. But the next day, it all proved fruitful, and I made that hurdle.

When the main respiratory doctor returned to the hospital, I believe he was a bit stunned by what had taken place. But I love when people who might inadvertently underestimate God are proved wrong. Humans are very smart, but they don’t know everything.

With that success, I was ready to be off my trach.

The Final Steps After My Tracheostomy Removal

The Plug

After my tracheostomy was removed, there were two important steps before my stoma fully closed. The first was the trach button, a small device placed in the opening to keep it from closing too quickly. This allowed doctors to monitor my breathing and ensure I could manage secretions without any complications.

The next step was the stoma stent (or plug). This was a smaller insert that helped the stoma gradually close while still providing a safeguard in case I had trouble breathing. Over time, my body adjusted, and the stoma naturally sealed.

These steps were crucial in making sure I transitioned safely from having a trach to breathing completely on my own.

During this transition, they also put me on oxygen tanks, which I used constantly after weaning off the trach.

Once the doctors determined that everything was stable, they removed the button, and we simply covered the hole with a band-aid. They reassured us that it would heal quickly, and they showed my mom the proper way to clean the area. The hole was at least the diameter of my pinky, if not larger, but within 24 to 36 hours, it had completely healed.

The oxygen I used came in the tall canisters you might be familiar with, and I was on it 24/7 for several months. Even after returning home to North Carolina, I still needed it at night. But thankfully, after a little while—just a few months—it was all taken away. That was a relief, another milestone in my journey of healing and faith.

Now I have zero breathing assistance since 2009-2010.

The Power of Every Breath

To me, every breath means a lot. When you can take a deep breath or sigh of relief and just feel the fresh air going in and coming out of your body, it's pretty amazing if you think about it. That’s why it is important that we use every breath to its fullest potential, because not everyone has that opportunity. The very act of breathing, something so many take for granted, became something I cherished.

As Job 33:4 reminds us: "The Spirit of God hath made me, and the breath of the Almighty hath given me life."

Breathing is a gift, a sign of life, and a testament to God’s grace. Psalm 150:6  says, "Let every thing that hath breath praise the Lord. Praise ye the Lord." My journey has taught me that even the simplest things, like taking a breath, are blessings that should never be overlooked.

A Testament to God's Faithfulness

Looking back, that season of my life was both physically and emotionally challenging. Relying on a ventilator for survival was an experience that reshaped how I viewed something as fundamental as breathing. It made me appreciate the ability to breathe independently even more and gave me a newfound respect for those who live with long-term respiratory support. My journey with the trach and ventilator was another testament to God’s grace and the resilience He instilled in me to navigate such a difficult chapter of my recovery.

Isaiah 42:5 beautifully states: "Thus saith God the Lord, he that created the heavens, and stretched them out; he that spread forth the earth, and that which cometh out of it; he that giveth breath unto the people upon it, and spirit to them that walk therein."

I am forever grateful for the breath that God has given me and for the strength He has provided through every step of this journey.

This experience didn’t just teach me about breathing—it taught me about trusting God even when the odds seemed impossible. If He could bring me through that, I know He can carry me through anything.

Please share, how do you make your breaths matter?

Be encouraged. 🧡