Backtracking: January 30th-February 14th

Remember that time I promised to 'continue tomorrow' only to bail like a bad, deceiving date? Yeah, I apologize. Please take me back and grasp onto my good qualities after reaching past my less desirable (unreliable?) qualities. Where was I? Oh yes, once upon a clinic day...

First off, I barely made it to clinic day. After arriving home Sunday night I replayed the morning in my head: the blood, the struggle to breath, the unbelievable feeling of helplessness coupled with  not being able to talk (again--keeping in mind that my voice is my most prized possession) all led me to an internal panic. Internal panic could only stay that way for so long before it was externalized and I wanted to phone the on call doc... BUT I knew they would only tell me to come to (germy) emerg and I opted to wait it out for two more days--48 hrs until I'd have my answers.

Clinic day was a breeze, despite feeling far less than up to par, everything went quickly--PFTs (which had dropped to 23%), nurse visit, and doc visit. I was mentally prepared for IVs, since I had been on orals in December and again in January, and there wasn't really much left... but to my surprise, it was recommended I try Cipro again. CF is such a mental game; we convince ourselves that 'ok' is good enough and that our good days cancel out the mounds of bad days. This decision played with my mental state since I relate a mere oral antibiotic with a 'you're not that sick' diagnosis. And so, I took the script, said if I got worse in a week I'd go on IVs (the wait list for a hospital bed was two weeks long) and went on my merry way.

Over the next two weeks my lungs hopped on the most unpredictable roller coaster I could fathom. One day I would be full of energy, sprinting up and down the stairs, while other days my chest was so loud and uncomfortable that falling asleep at night was a chore. Here's what I can confirm: crackles and pops--while a catchy tag for a delicious breakfast cereal when joined by snap--do not make for a very soothing bedtime lullaby. The final straw was drawn when I could barely finish a 15 minute walk with the dog without a break and without ducking into the bushes to toss my cookies. Ambitious bulimics take note: there's nothing quite like a mid-walk puke.