Backtracking: The following was written March 18th. WBC was 20.

These past three days have been hard. During the day I need my mom here all the time because the act of just sitting here leaves me breathless, my chest is constantly heaving with effort and things that I took advantage of a week ago (like reaching for my pills an arms-length away or walking to the washoom) have all become such effort. .82 L days, I miss you... these days are humbling and scary--how does one crash so fast? Cursed with a wicked imagination, a reel of possibilities play through my mind, and none of the scenarios are rosey. Suddenly I find myself constantly talking about transplant--not wanting to "miss the boat", since that possibility is very real.

Yesterday I went for my first walk in two days, it was nice to finally get out of the confines of this room, however it wasn't nice to nurse my hypoxic headache after. I now need to use 3 L of oxygen for walking (or anytime I get out of bed basically), 6 L for exercise, and .5 for sleeping and when I'm sitting and feeling in distress--this is a drastic change from last week when my sats were 96-97 and  I required no oxygen. It's baffling and disturbing how quickly CF can rear it's ugly head and knock you down for the count.

Backtracking: The following was written on March 15th. WBC up to 16. PFTs dropped from .82 to .70 in 48 hrs (Between March 8th and March 10th).

These past two days have been rough. Ever since last Wednesday my lungs have taken a sharp decline; the shortness of breath has been growing and the lethargy caused by every little movement is intense and troubling. I must admit, it is quite scary and humbling to go from the top of the world to the pits in seven short days, it kicks you down and cripples your sense of confidence. Yesterday (Monday the 14th), we decided to change my drugs since it was evident that due to my increasing shortness of breath, increased mucus production, and coughing up blood yet again, that my current combo was not working. To give you an idea, last Tuesday I was bookin' it to Dundas Square, taking quick strides in my heels and weaving between the masses to quicken my course to my final destination, on Saturday night the ease turned to effort as I struggled to walk against the current, wheezing, huffing, puffing, crackling.