Southwest Explorer "Living with pulmonary fibrosis "

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Southwest Explorer "Living with pulmonary fibrosis " “Each morning I wake to another beautiful sunrise,Still fighting Pulmonary fibrosis

18/09/2026

A TERMINAL DIAGNOSIS MAY CHANGE YOUR LIFE… BUT IT DOESN’T HAVE TO END YOUR LIVING.

I’m Dave the Southwest Explorer, Living With Pulmonary Fibrosis.

My lungs are failing. I rely on oxygen, and I’ve been told that my time may be limited. But while I still have breath in my body, I refuse to spend my remaining life simply waiting for it to end.

My channel is about proving that even after a terminal or life-limiting diagnosis, you can still find purpose, beauty and moments worth fighting for.

Come with me on honest countryside adventures across Southwest England along quiet lanes, through ancient villages and into the wild places where nature helps me forget, just for a moment, that I am ill.

But you’ll also see the other side.

The hospital appointments.
The hospice visits.
The oxygen cylinders.
The fear, exhaustion and uncertainty.
The laughter, love and moments that make every difficult breath worthwhile.

There are no filters, no fake positivity and no influencer bu****it just a truthful, intimate look at what living with pulmonary fibrosis is really like.

This isn’t a channel about dying.

It’s a channel about living honestly, courageously and with purpose while I still can.

If you’re living with illness, supporting someone you love, or simply need reminding not to take today for granted, please follow my journey and become part of our growing community.

❤️ Follow Southwest Explorer – Living With Pulmonary Fibrosis on Facebook, TikTok and Instagram.

▶️ Subscribe on YouTube:
https://www.youtube.com/

☕ If you enjoy my adventures and would like to help me keep creating them, you can support the channel here:
https://buymeacoffee.com/southwestexplorer

Every follow, share, comment and subscription helps this message reach someone who may desperately need to hear it:

A life-limiting illness may limit what you can do but it can never decide how deeply you live.

Keep fighting. Keep exploring. Keep living a life worth living.

Breathe Easy,
Dave ❤️🫁🌿

18/09/2026

MOVEMENT IS EXERCISE

Today I met my lovely friend Sue for a gentle walk around Page Park. Sue lives with arthritis, and I live with idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis but neither of us is ready to stop moving.

I strapped on my backpack, turned my oxygen cylinder up to 8 litres, and we headed to the café for two lattes to fuel us around the park. ☕️🫁

A good natter, fresh air and a few more steps in the bag. We were only out for 45 minutes, but those 45 minutes mattered.

Staying active doesn’t always mean running miles or lifting weights. Sometimes it simply means putting one foot in front of the other, at your own pace and in your own way.

Walking is wonderful for the body, but sharing it with a friend is good for the soul.

Never underestimate the smallest movement because movement is exercise, every step is progress, and every step counts. ❤️🙏

Breathe Easy,
Dave 🫁 Buy Me a Coffee

18/09/2026

❤️ JUST LET IT BE… ❤️

There are three little words I am learning to live by:

Just let it be.

Not because I have given up.
Not because I no longer care.
And certainly not because I have stopped fighting.

But because life has taught me that some things are simply beyond our control.

I did not choose idiopathic pulmonary fibrosis. I did not choose damaged lungs, oxygen cylinders, frightening oxygen levels or a future far shorter than the one I once imagined. I cannot control how my chest behaves when I wake up, whether my body will cooperate with my plans, or when another cruel curve ball will come flying towards me.

I cannot change the cards life has dealt me.

But I can choose how I play them.

For me, “just let it be” means accepting the part of a situation that I cannot change, so I can give my energy to the part that I can.

If my oxygen levels refuse to rise, I cannot fight the numbers through sheer determination—but I can rest, listen to my body and try again another day.

If my legs cannot carry me as far as they once did, I can use my scooter.

If I cannot walk to the view, I can let my drone become my eyes.

If an adventure must be shortened, I can still be grateful for the few beautiful moments I was given.

And when fear begins whispering about tomorrow, I can bring myself gently back to today—to Cara holding my hand, Reggie beside me, birds singing in the trees, a flask of tea on a countryside bench, or the quiet miracle of another sunrise.

Just let it be does not mean ignoring the problem.

It means refusing to waste what precious strength I have wrestling with the uncontrollable parts of it. It clears away the anger, the “why me?”, the imagined endings and the desperate need for life to be different. Then I can see the real problem clearly and ask:

What can I do now?
How can I adapt?
Where can I find purpose in this moment?

Acceptance is not weakness.

Sometimes acceptance is the bravest thing we can do.

I am not surrendering to pulmonary fibrosis. I am simply accepting that it is part of my life, while refusing to let it become the whole of my life.

There will always be curve balls. Plans will change. Bodies will struggle. Hearts will break. The future will remain uncertain.

So let the uncontrollable part be.

Save your strength for the choices that are still yours.

Choose love.
Choose gratitude.
Choose courage.
Choose the people who walk beside you.
Choose to notice the beauty that still remains.
Choose to keep making memories—even if they look different from the ones you once imagined.

I cannot control how long my road will be.

But I can still decide how I travel it.

With Cara beside me.
With oxygen on my back.
With the countryside before me.
With love in my heart.
And with an unbreakable determination to make every remaining mile mean something.

I am still here.
Still fighting.
Still loving.
Still dreaming.
Still Dave.

Sometimes peace begins when we stop demanding that life should have happened differently, take a breath, and quietly say:

“I cannot change this part… so I will just let it be. Then I will focus on what I can still do.”

Because even alongside an ending, there is still a life to be lived.

And I intend to keep living mine a life worth living. ❤️🫁🌿

Breathe Easy,
Dave

THE LIFE I KNEW HAS CHANGED… BUT I AM STILL HERE.I have been handed a journey I never expected and certainly never asked...
17/09/2026

THE LIFE I KNEW HAS CHANGED… BUT I AM STILL HERE.

I have been handed a journey I never expected and certainly never asked for.

Living with pulmonary fibrosis means I cannot keep chasing the life I once had, nor can I spend my remaining days frightened of what tomorrow may bring.

I am learning to loosen my grip on the past not because those memories no longer matter, but because I am still alive today.

This new life moves at a slower pace. It comes with oxygen, limitations, uncertainty and difficult days. But it also comes with a deeper appreciation for everything I once took for granted.

Every sunrise feels more precious.
Every walk becomes an achievement.
Every breath carries meaning.
Every moment with the people I love becomes something to treasure.

I cannot change the cards I have been dealt, but I can choose how I play them.

I choose not to drift through whatever time I have left, and I refuse to let fear stop me from living it.

I will meet each new day exactly as it comes with an open heart, a grateful soul and the courage to keep moving forward.

This may not be the life I planned…

But it is still my life.

And for as long as there is breath in my lungs, love in my heart and countryside beneath my feet, I will keep embracing every beautiful, fragile moment and living a life worth living.

Breathe Easy, Dave. ❤️🫁🌿

17/09/2026

❤️🐾 Sometimes, the shortest walks leave the biggest footprints on your heart.

Today, I shared a gentle little walk with my beautiful wife Cara and my loyal little buddy Reggie. My body may not always allow me to travel far, but with the two of them beside me, even the smallest journey feels like an adventure.

Fresh air in my lungs, Cara’s hand close to mine and Reggie happily leading the way it lifted my spirits more than words can express.

Life isn’t measured only by how far we walk, but by who walks beside us. Today reminded me that love, loyalty and a little countryside air can make even the heaviest heart feel lighter.

A short walk… but a beautiful memory I will carry forever. ❤️🌿🐾

Breathe Easy, Dave. ❤️🫁

16/09/2026

Life is unpredictable.

No matter how carefully we plan, there will be moments that shake us, change us and redefine who we are.

My diagnosis shook my world but it also taught me that strength isn’t about never falling. It’s about finding a reason to rise, love more deeply and keep living while you still can.

We cannot always choose the cards life deals us… but we can choose to make every precious moment count.

I am still here. Still fighting. Still loving. Still living a life worth living. ❤️🫁🙏

Breathe Easy,
Dave

16/09/2026

TODAY’S WALK WASN’T ABOUT HOW FAR I WENT… IT WAS ABOUT REFUSING TO STOP LIVING.

Today’s pulmonary rehabilitation walk took me around beautiful Frenchay Common a gentle little walk through the fresh air, surrounded by nature and the quiet rhythm of everyday life. 🌿

To most people, it may have looked like nothing more than a short stroll.

But when you are living with Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis, every step asks something of you. Every breath has to be fought for, every rise in the path feels steeper, and every metre becomes its own little victory.

Pulmonary rehabilitation isn’t about becoming the person I used to be.

It is about protecting the life I still have.

It is about keeping my body moving, maintaining my strength and reminding this disease that, although it may have changed the way I live, it has not taken away my determination to live a life worth living.

Afterwards, I sat down with a well-earned cuppa and simply watched the world go by. ☕️

People walking past.
Leaves moving gently in the breeze.
Life continuing all around me.

And in that quiet moment, I felt incredibly grateful.

Grateful for the walk.
Grateful for the fresh air.
Grateful for the strength to keep trying.
Grateful simply to be there.

We often believe life’s greatest moments must be loud, exciting or extraordinary. But sometimes happiness is just a little walk across the common, a warm cup of tea and the precious opportunity to sit quietly and watch the world carry on.

Today wasn’t measured in miles.

It was measured in courage, determination, gratitude and breaths.

However difficult life becomes, please never stop searching for these small, beautiful moments. They may appear ordinary to the rest of the world, but when you understand how precious life truly is, they become absolutely priceless.

Another walk completed.
Another memory made.
Another little victory over pulmonary fibrosis. ❤️🫁

Keep fighting, warriors.

Keep moving forward even if today’s progress is only one small step.

Because every step counts, every breath matters, and every day we are given is another opportunity to live a life worth living.

Breathe Easy,
Dave ❤️🫁🙏

15/09/2026

TODAY, MY E-SCOOTER BECAME MY LEGS… AND MY DRONE BECAME MY EYES. 🛴🫁

Today, Cara and I made another attempt to get some fresh air in the beautiful Somerset village of Evercreech.

I’m incredibly fortunate to know some wonderful landowners who kindly allow me to use their private lanes and green lanes quiet, hidden corners of the countryside that most people never have the opportunity to reach.

Sadly, my lungs weren’t playing ball today.

Even with my oxygen turned up to 8 litres, my oxygen levels struggled to reach the high 80s. The headache and nausea soon followed, and as the morning went on, I began to feel increasingly unwell.

But I still did my best.

My e-scooter became the legs that my lungs could no longer support, and my drone became the eyes that carried me farther than my body could travel.

For a while, I watched a beautiful pair of red kites soaring effortlessly on the thermals above the fields, circling together as they searched the ground below for their next meal.

They looked so free up there.

No oxygen cylinders.
No numbers flashing on an oximeter.
No breathlessness.
No fear.

Just wings stretched wide against the Somerset sky.

Eventually, my body told me that enough was enough, and my beautiful wife Cara drove me safely home.

Did I feel defeated?

Not for one second.

Because success is no longer measured by how far I travel, how long I stay out or how many miles I cover.

Success is simply refusing to let this illness take away every beautiful moment that remains.

Today’s adventure may have been short, but I was still there.

I breathed in the countryside air.
I watched wildlife living freely.
I shared another precious memory with the woman I love.
And for a little while, I wasn’t just a man living with terminal Idiopathic Pulmonary Fibrosis…

I was the Southwest Explorer again.

There was a time when I might have looked at today and seen everything I couldn’t do. Now, I look at it and feel proud of everything I still managed to experience.

There is no shame in adapting.
There is no failure in turning back.
There is no weakness in listening to your body.

Sometimes courage is not reaching the destination you planned.

Sometimes courage is setting out despite knowing you may never reach it.

My e-scooter was my legs today.
My drone was my eyes.
Cara was my strength and my safe journey home.
And the countryside was, as always, medicine for my soul.

So no, today wasn’t a defeat.

It was a triumph.

Pulmonary fibrosis may be changing how I explore this beautiful world but it will never stop me from loving it, appreciating it and embracing every precious moment I am fortunate enough to be given.

Life doesn’t have to be perfect.or even go according to plan to remain a life worth living. ❤️🌿🫁

Breathe easy, warriors. Keep adapting, keep believing and keep living.

14/09/2026

I’VE STOPPED COMPARING MYSELF TO THE MAN I USED TO BE…

For most of my life, the man in the mirror was muscular, powerful and physically strong. I had spent years building that body, so when pulmonary fibrosis and dramatic weight loss began changing my reflection, I struggled to recognise myself.

I had lost six stone 84 pounds and reached 14 stone.

All I could see at first was what had disappeared. The muscle. The size. The strength. The old me.

Seeing a thinner, smaller version of myself affected me more deeply than I wanted to admit. But eventually, I realised something…

The man in the mirror hadn’t disappeared. He had simply been forced to fight in a different way.

I have stopped comparing myself to the person I was before my diagnosis. I am learning to accept the cards life has dealt me and focus on the new me the man standing here today.

And strangely, although I may look physically smaller, I feel emotionally stronger than ever.

My BMI is now 29. My blood pressure is within the normal range. I am no longer diabetic, and my breathlessness has become more manageable.

I can place my hand on my heart and say that I have done everything within my power to give myself the best possible chance of being considered for a double-lung transplant assessment at Queen Elizabeth Hospital Birmingham.

Deep down, I understand that a transplant may not be a realistic hope because of my pulmonary hypertension and the damage to my heart from a previous heart attack.

That truth hurts.but accepting reality does not mean surrendering to it.

So now, my fight has a new purpose: to make this body as fit, healthy and strong as possible and keep pulmonary fibrosis pinned in the corner for as long as I possibly can.

I cannot choose the cards I have been dealt, but I can choose how I play them.

The reflection may have changed.
The body may be smaller.
The road ahead may be uncertain.

But I am still me.

Still a husband. Still a father. Still a fighter. Still the Southwest Explorer. And still determined to live a life worth living one precious breath and one beautiful moment at a time. ❤️🫁🙏

Never be ashamed of the person survival has asked you to become.

Breathe Easy,
Dave ❤️

13/09/2026

SOME DAYS DON’T GO TO PLAN… BUT THEY CAN STILL BE BEAUTIFUL.

Today I had a lovely day out at Slimbridge with my beautiful wife Cara and stepdaughter Daisy.

My chest really wasn’t playing ball and, even with my ambulatory oxygen at 8 litres, my oxygen levels just wouldn’t rise above 89%. That brought the familiar thumping headache and nausea, so I knew I had to take things gently.

But even a short walk beside the canal was enough to lift my spirits. Watching the little boats drift along the water, the swans gliding past and the ducks simply going about their day reminded me once again that sometimes the smallest moments are the ones that matter most. 🦢🦆❤️

Afterwards we headed to The Tudor Arms for a delicious roast dinner. I can’t manage big meals anymore, but I enjoyed every little bit I could and more importantly, I enjoyed being there with the people I love.

Pulmonary fibrosis may change what I can do, but it won’t stop me appreciating the life I still have.

Today wasn’t about how far I walked or how much I ate.

It was about fresh air, family, laughter and making another memory together. ❤️

Another little piece of a life worth living.

Breathe Easy,
Dave 💙
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