I slipped up this week and paid for it--big time.
On Tuesday I ran out of Losec--a medication that prevents the production of stomach acid--and failed to refill my prescription right away. Instead, I found a bottle of zantac and--feeling thrifty--thought that might tie me over for a few days. Boy was I wrong, VERY wrong. Anyone who has ever experienced severe heartburn will sympathize. For those of you who have not, it feels exactly how it sounds...acid burning your throat (and sometimes mouth and nose), and it shoots up in little volcanic bursts.

Wednesday was fine, the Zantac seemed to work when coupled with a few Rolaids throughout the day. Thursday brought a little more discomfort, I found it difficult to eat or drink anything because of the burning sensation in my throat (and the fear of making it worse). But by this morning (and remainder of the day) it was intolerable. I couldn't even complete my morning physio because the stomach acid was jumping up to my mouth (despite popping Rolaids and Zantac). Needless to say, I immediately got my butt up to the drugstore and picked up a fresh supply of Losec--a drug I will never, EVER be without again! 

Lesson learned. Laziness=pain.

This is a reminder blog post to myself, just in case I feel like procrastining again in the future.

Since I'm on a roll here, I thought I would provide additional tidbits.

I went for my follow-up appointment at TGH last week and it went quite well. I really do like the fact that I arrived at 8:30 and I was home by 11:30. PFTs and a visit with the doctor all done before noon!

My PFTs are exactly the same (holding steady at .80). My weight is pretty stable also, which is always good to hear since I struggle with it quite a bit!

I was actually surprised to learn that I had not lost as many pounds as I had predicted. I have had a lot of digestive problems since last summer, which leaves me in pain, feeling ill, weak and unable to eat or do nightly feeds. Because of this problem, Dr. C (who I saw at TGH) has recommended I see the GI specialist. Apparently I should deal with this ongoing problem now because it can get even worse after transplant (I shudder at that thought).

In any case, I am hopeful that my situation can be helped. Maybe I'll just have to take additional medication or adjust my enzymes. It will be a relief not to suffer as often as I do now--I even had digestive problems at New Years and could barely finish one champagne flute. That's just wrong.

Everything else is just as it should be, time for the gut to follow suit.

Once again I have abandoned you, dear blog, for better and brighter things (well, if you consider school and skiing as better and brighter). But I know you will always take me back and maybe I shouldn't take advantage of you. Maybe it's unkind and rude and slightly selfish, but I will try to be better and give you the attention you deserve. All I can do is try.

So, where were we?
January went by quick. And I'm amazed by the power of time--what a difference a year makes. Last January-February I had been in the hospital for three weeks, having chronic fevers, no appetite and nasal prongs strapped onto me 24/7. I distinctly remember Dr. C coming into my small, semi-private room to tell me that I needed to consider going for a transplant assessment. After that, I went home for a week to try home care again. But I became unstable and went back in for another three weeks. I watched winter turn to spring from my hospital room window, which overlooked a small park and St. Michael's Cathedral. 

Today things are quite the opposite. I have experienced winter turning to spring. I have walked through the park and I have enjoyed hours of downhill skiing (made it to 10 runs in one day) and I even tried out cross-country skiing! I have not required oxygen for moderate exercise (I just throw it on when I really want to push myself) and my love for food continues to grow (I'm not ashamed to admit it!). The best part: I've been infection-free for 11 months and counting. That's right folks, I have not even required one course of oral antibiotics--I used to be on those things at least every six months. Now that I have admitted that, I will knock on every piece of wood I can find in my vicinity.

What else?
 I turned 23 on January 25th--and no, I do not feel old. Rather, I feel much younger than last year!

Last year I woke up on my 22nd birthday to my IV drip and a sat monitor (measures the oxygen level in your blood). The first thing I did was pop two Tylenol in my mouth to ease my fever (I got used to doing this every four hours) and tried to force down some lovely St. Mikes cuisine. I'm not quite sure what treat I had in store that morning but I'm certain I only tried the cereal--that's usually the only decent thing on a hospital food tray. I was probably also treated to luke-warm tea, served in a plastic cup--which should actually be a crime. I shouldn't complain too much though, as the cuisine did improve as the day wore on.

My Mom, Sister and Dad arrived at the hospital with foil "Happy Birthday" balloons in tow (I actually still have one that's perfectly inflated). My favourite nurse convinced the doctors to give me a day pass to go home since it was a "special day". I was wheeled out to our car, so I didn't have to waste all my limited energy on walking. Upon arriving home, I think my favourite gift was a nice warm bath, since we couldn't shower on the ward due to infection control concerns. Yes, it is gross.

I had a nice steak dinner/lunch, but unfortunately I couldn't eat much because I had no appetite. However, it looked delicious. The day was capped off with an ice cream cake and in order to blow out the candles I removed my oxygen tank from the room because (a)- I was new at this and didn't know the risks and (b)- I was paranoid.

That was last year. This year I celebrated with my sister and friends with a night of boardgames and rock band. Sounds simple, but the simple things are always the best! Just like a warm bubble bath after a week without a shower...yes...just like that.

This year I also missed the simple things, like a birthday gift from my dog, Julie. She was with us for 16 years before she passed away in June. She was always a great shopper, but this year there was no card signed with a paw print.

And that is how time changes you: it ages you, takes spirits aways and introduces new ones, reshapes your appreciation, molds your perspective, builds or demolishes relationships and it heals you. And it definitely goes by way too quick.