New lungs, new life: Chad Don Carlos recovering from double lung transplant

It started with a bout of COVID in March 2022. Chad Don Carlos had been sick for over two weeks and wasn’t improving. In fact, he kept feeling worse — especially his breathing.

“I just thought I was out of shape and needed to go to the gym,” he said. “Everything was getting harder. When I got sick, I would get really sick and for longer than anyone else.” 

Chad was referred to a pulmonologist. “He said I had the lungs of 70-year-old smoker of three packs a day.”

Finally, a diagnosis: a rare genetic condition called Alpha-1 Antitrypsin Deficiency (AATD), in which a protein that protects the lungs from smoke and other particulates isn’t produced enough or isn’t formed correctly. 

“Your lungs eat themselves,” he said. 

“My lung transplant was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,” Chad says. “I would like to help others avoid it.”

JUST THE BEGINNING 

Disc golf had been a part of his life for two decades, first in Louisiana and later in Western Colorado. In 2016, Chad moved to Bend with his wife, Reg, and their son, Silas. He joined the CODGC board and served over two years, including as president for a year. 

But now his lungs were quickly deteriorating. 

“It was hard to play disc golf, and I was doing damage to myself by continuing to try and play.”

In November 2023, he forced himself to walk away from the sport. 

“After that, the walls quickly started closing in on me,” he said.

He tried to stay active, but eventually needed supplemental oxygen.

“I couldn't go anywhere without an oxygen tank, which was demeaning and embarrassing,” he said. “So I stayed home, plugged into an oxygen concentrator. My house became my prison.”

THE WAIT LIST

Soon after his diagnosis, Chad had applied for the national organ transplant wait list, but getting on it wasn’t simple — or quick. It took over three years and dozens of evaluations, but on April 23, 2025, he was finally listed as a potential recipient.

“It was strangely surreal, living and waiting for someone else to die for you to move on. Also, any phone call at any time could be ‘the call’ — every time the phone rang, my heart would jump a little.”

In September, he got “the call.” He flew to San Francisco, but “it turned out to be a dry run. The lungs were failing, so they opted not to proceed with surgery. That was hard.” 

The false alarm — getting so close, only to be turned away at the last moment — was disheartening. 

“I couldn't go much further,” he said. “I was collapsing in on myself at the utter end of my rope.”

A SECOND CHANCE

On December 16, Chad got another call. Another set of lungs: It was go time. He had less than six hours to arrive at UCSF Medical Center. After an emotional meeting with his family, Chad boarded a medevac flight to San Francisco and arrived with two hours to spare. The medical team wheeled him to the operating room, gave him an IV, and began the nine-hour surgery. 

When he woke up, things were — as he put it mildly — “not pleasant.” He was strapped to a gurney to avoid overexertion and prevent injury. He had large tubes coming out of his chest for drainage, several IVs in his arms, and a feeding tube through his nose into his stomach.

“I was stapled and sown at my midsection, and I was absolutely confused. My body was freaking out; the medication and the trauma from the surgery caused multiple hallucinations.”

Chad likened his visions to “a very vivid Tool video I couldn't escape, rather nightmarish.” 

Chad spent nine days in the ICU and was transferred to a recovery unit on Christmas, right when his family arrived. 

“I was completely reliant upon the staff for everything. Bathroom, sponge bathing, feeding paste through my nose — everything.”

As soon as he was able, the nurses had him up and walking.

“I was walking twice a day, going further every time,” he said. “But it was very hard. I needed a walker, drainage tube, and oxygen just to go down the hall.” 

Recovery in the hospital was agonizing. “Not to mention the constant pain and inability to sleep comfortably upright in a bed.” 

Since returning home, Chad has hiked Pilot Butte several times. “One day I did it twice consecutively," he said. "I am exceeding the transplant team's expectations.”

OUT AND BACK AGAIN

Chad was released on January 16, a month after his surgery, only to experience a dangerously high heart rate of 150 beats per minute, which required electrical cardioversion. 

“They had to shock-rest my heart to get it to stop freaking out,” he said.

Back in the hospital, Chad contracted COVID and was “quarantined like a nuclear hazard,” he joked. 

A week later, he was re-released. But he soon began experiencing another troubling symptom: amnesia, a reaction to anti-rejection medication.

“I was Dory from ‘Finding Nemo.’ I didn't know I was married or had a son. I couldn't give anyone any details of my life, and I couldn't remember what I had just said either.” 

Chad can’t say how long the amnesia lasted, but “it was all a haze — really depressing, mortifying, and confusing. It was like trying to put a 5,000-piece all-black puzzle back together.”

MAKING STRIDES       

Once his memory returned, Chad felt more like himself again. His strength returned as well.

“I started focusing on walking and getting out, pushing the limits of how far I could walk every day. I started doing stairs daily.”

He says he was inspired by someone he never met: his donor. 

“I want to enjoy the gift of a second chance my donor gifted me. I want to honor them by getting myself in the best shape I could, and I am continuing that every day.”

Chad returned to Bend in late March and is continuing to make strides in his recovery. 

“I am hiking almost every day. I've done Pilot Butte six times since I’ve been home; one day I did it twice consecutively. I am exceeding the transplant team's expectations.”

While his strength and stamina have returned, his sternum needs more time to heal from the surgery, so he won’t be ready to throw discs until the summer. 

“I am focusing on healing for now, but I am looking forward to getting back into the disc golf community and playing more for sure.”

More importantly, Chad has his life back. 

“I am feeling more alive than I have in a very long time and I’m able to do the things I haven't been able to do with my wife and son.” 

A word of warning

"I really want to reiterate how many people I met in San Francisco who were having to get lung transplants and were regretting their life decisions. Smoking and vaping and exposure to our environment like wildfire smoke will absolutely bring people where I had to go.

I would love nothing more than to help people avoid the battle I had to deal with. COPD* / emphysema is hell. My lung transplant was the hardest thing I ever had to do, and I would like to help others avoid it."

*Chronic obstructive pulmonary disease