KAT RUSSELL
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Love with a Trach

12/16/2015

8 Comments

 
Picture
This is me on my wedding day. You can't tell, but I've taken painstaking efforts to hide the t-tube in my neck. For those who don't know, a t-tube is similar to a tracheostomy, but it is able to be capped given its T-shape, which allows air to flow in three directions. Especially in your 20s, having this in your life can be socially awkward; I have more scarves than shirts in my closet. When I'm unable to hide it from strangers, coworkers, even friends, I'm subject to stares, questions, even hurtful remarks.

It feels different to laugh, to swallow, to run. My lung transplant saved me, but it didn't free me from that feeling of not having enough air; the trach takes me back. And yet, that's not my biggest obstacle. I want to talk about beauty here, and how having a t-tube has been a lesson in self-acceptance and comfortable self-awareness.

On my wedding day, I felt more beautiful than I'd felt in a long time. Maybe it was the fact that I had a jeweler design a special necklace to hide the t-tube. I also had the privilege of wearing that dress. And I was marrying someone I love deeply, and who loves me. Perhaps this latter fact is what makes me able to feel beautiful in the day to day, when I no longer have these frills and sparkles to mask reality. I believe his love is what carried me through the changes that I couldn't control: all the scars that have become a part of me, the seven-inch line where surgeons cracked opened my sternum twice. That not-so-glamorous trach that was placed three years ago. The heavy breathing. The fear of losing that breath. 

What 20-something does not want to feel attractive? I have a trach but I still want to wear cute dresses and tank tops without the stares and commentary: is that permanent? Oh, poor thing. Why don't you just cover it? And I do; even on hot, humid days, even when it hurts, even when it keeps ruining my scarves, I try to hide this part of me on days where I'm not emotionally equipped to deal with rudeness.

Because pretty girls do pretty things, my 11th-grade Spanish teacher said more than once when I coughed too much in her class. 

Pretty girls are healthy, vibrant, unmarked, unscarred. I am not a pretty girl. That is not what I do. I'm no damsel in distress. I don't need to be rescued. (I clung to that Ani DiFranco song in high school). But what if I were bold and just wore what I wanted? I tried that for a while; the not-hiding. People then made it their business to dole out advice, they were callous, or they would inadvertantly make me feel as though I were intruding on their space.

He always called me beautiful, even when I weighed 70 pounds after my transplant. Even when I had to have this invasive piece of plastic inserted into my neck. He says he doesn't notice it. He says, wear those pretty summer dresses; you make them look good; who cares if people look at it, comment. I worry that these words are rehearsed, insincere. But he does not give me any reasons to reinforce those worries.

Every few months, I go through a procedure to change the t- tube, and sometimes I can't talk for days or weeks. The voice box is blocked. These are times I can't hide it with a scarf. He tries to read my lips, my impromptu sign language. To speak is not to be heard; you need listeners for that, someone who will take time to understand who you are and what your words mean, at heart. These are the days after a procedure, something we call "routine." He playfully calls the humidifier machine that I hook up to the trach my "scuba." He watches me more, just to be sure I'm okay, but not in a way that makes me feel weak, incapable. Sometimes, I wake up and see ghosts next to my bed, staring at me, and I jump and he pulls me to him, half asleep, without even realizing; we laugh it off in the morning. My crazy dreams.

Normal is how we adapt. How we come to look at challenges - not as challenges but as pieces of our lives that can be held or disposed from our memories, if we try. We can choose what we see. There are people who define me by this, who call me "strong," whose first question when they see me is, "How is your health?" The outside world often forces my self-awareness. "You don't sound so good," strangers say to my cough; in line, at the store. "I'm not sick," I mutter.  He is my haven of myself; he allows me to talk of my differences only when I want to. He does not bring attention to them. He trusts that I can care for me.

I've reminded myself that to be attractive is not the same as being valued, and it would be redundant to elaborate on the opposite messages society pounds into our minds on a daily basis. Beauty and value are not equals, and what we define for ourselves will always be different than what the outsider defines us as -- and we must let that be. He and I share a perfect space; when we look at each other, we feel who we are, without criticism, without self-loathing, without fearing what we lack. To be beautiful, one must be seen. To be seen, one must simply allow it.

8 Comments
Antwaine Smith
4/7/2016 07:25:44 pm

Hey I'm a 23 year old black male. I was born Oct 1992 and was born premature. I had a teach for about 4 years of my lifeci can't remember. But growing up I always got bullied on my voice, neck appearanceand on top of that my dark skin complexion. I've been called all types of names. Growing up through elementary middle school after that I started hideing it by always wearing two shirts.I pull the undershirt up to cover it. I love plays sports and I'm very athletic. That being said I never had much luck in getting and keeping girlfriends. Once they see this scar on my neck I can wrap it up. I feel unattractive. It's hard to walk with my head high. Ppl say I should because I'm lucky to be alive. But honestly that don't make me feel better. I hate the questions over and over again the pointing and staring overwhelming. I can't talk to nobody about it. Not my mom or my dad. I keep it covered around and everybody now even family. I'm just tired of this all of it. I'm happy you found happiness because I feel I'm becomeing more withdrawed and I don't make attempts to talk to many people

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Ginger Kuth
4/8/2018 01:58:04 pm

I know this was a ling time ago but yikes. I had a trach. Just a few minths ago. Two. I am lucky to be alive . l am a 36 year old female. I would like to talk to YOU.

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Evelyn
4/18/2018 04:22:30 pm

I also had a trach and a scar from it which isn't pretty..lol. It has only been 1month since removal so i hope the scar get more appealing to the eyes but i went out shopping today for a necklace to cover it up. I am as the Ginger says lucky to be alive...very lucky.blessed whatever u want to call it. You Are Also!!! There is a reason why we're still here!

Never forget that! And reach out to others if you have any doubts. Hugs to both of you!

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Penny
8/22/2018 11:30:55 am

You are beautiful with a beautiful story. I have been in a T tube for nine months. My enlarged thyroid crushed the trachea and moved it out of place. The thyroid is gone but I needed the trach to hold open the trachea. In two days, I will have surgery to remove this trach. If it works, I will be free of it. Or, I may wake up with another one. Emotions are running high right now for me. Your story brought tears to my eyes....in sadness and in laughter. I feel everything you mentioned. I also have more scarves in the closet than blouses. I also have a loving man beside me that doesn’t see my imperfections. Attitude is a key to dealing with every situation. I didn’t ask for these problems, but only we can control a better future for ourselves with smiles vs. frowns. Yes, tears flow in private because we are only human. Thank you for your story. Love and best wishes!

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Jan
3/20/2019 01:35:38 am

What a Beautiful love story. And you are a beautiful bride as well. I just had to write something, I don’t normally but this touched me so. I also had a trach for 2 years, 3 months. I felt every single word you were saying at one time or another, and I too have an abundance of scarfs. My scar is really large so now I am really fond of turtlenecks😂. I had a very rare form of cancer that grows on the cartledge behind the vocal cords. I had a Dr. in Boston that saved my voice and I am very thankful. I am much older that you ladies but still feel people looking and wondering what’s wrong with you voice, and yes most of the time ask if you ar sick. I had a man at the grocery store ask me “Why you talk like that” are you sick and I said “No I’m Grateful”. Sometimes you just gotta leave them standing thinking I guess I shouldn’t have said that.
Thank you for writing your beautiful love story. With that kind of love beside you, you will always feel beautiful. God Bless all of you. Hope to talk again. ❤️

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fins for snorkeling link
2/17/2020 03:48:51 am

The regulator fits comfortably in your hand even while wearing gloves while the octopus is comfortable and easy to use.

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LC
1/30/2021 01:30:13 pm

Thank you for your story. I have a trach scar & wonder why people stare but never ask why I have it. I love what you said though - “it’s been a lesson in self-acceptance”. Thanks again!

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Stephen link
2/20/2025 11:35:26 pm

Katherine, your heartfelt narrative in "Love with a Trach" offers a profound exploration of beauty, self-acceptance, and the transformative power of unconditional love. Your candid reflections on navigating societal perceptions while embracing your own journey provide a compelling testament to resilience and authenticity. The intimate portrayal of your wedding day, where love transcends physical scars, serves as a poignant reminder that true beauty emanates from within and is magnified by those who cherish us wholly. Thank you for sharing such a deeply personal and inspiring story that encourages readers to redefine conventional standards of beauty and find strength in vulnerability.

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    Katherine Russell is an author, poet, activist, and freelancer from Buffalo, NY.

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