Backtracking: February 15th
Procrastinators take note: it is never a good idea to fall behind on documenting your own health record.

First, you may notice I've changed my blog around a tad (ok more than a tad) in order to avoid the actual 'work' that needed to be done. I realize Grandparents will be sending me evil e-mails regarding this change so let me try to make this transition easier: 1. To leave a comment you have to click on the post you are reading to see the 'comment' box, and 2. All my tags and blogs I follow, etc. links are grouped at the bottom of the page... I'll try to fix this if I'm feeling ambitious again.

Now onto the fascinating storytelling...

The next clinic on Feb 15, started out semi-promising (so it seemed); my PFTs were back up to 25% and I was feeling ok. But when the new fellow (who I've grown to love) entered the room, all of my inflated sense of health quickly deflated and I was hit with a tsunami of information. First, we agreed that just 'ok' was not good enough and that obviously I had reached my plateau with Cipro and oral antibiotics in general--this point was emphasized by the fact that my WBC (which hadn't been checked the week before) was 17. Yikes. FYI: anything below 10 is normal.

Then and there we quickly decided that I needed IV antibiotics and before you could blink I was down in radiology getting a PICC line inserted. In fact, this happened SO fast that I had to send my mom out to buy me a t-shirt, while my arm was being sliced open, since my long-sleeved shirt was no longer a practical option and hospital gowns are never an option in my opinion.  I opted to subject my right arm to the PICC line fun this time around, since my left arm is a big spaz (veins spasm, that play on words sounded more entertaining in my head) which is not hospitable for the wire rode that wants nothing more but smooth entry into your superior vena cava. As a result of my decision, they got the PICC line in first try, no problems!