Starting back to rehab tomorrow morning... duh duh duh!

I really hope it goes well, as I seem to be an expert in suffocating myself. Like I mentioned earlier, my brain still thinks it working with diseased lungs and that, couple with the tightness of the incision, make the act of breathing hard. My friend M described it well earlier when she said it's like jumping right on the bike without any training wheels first--so there's bound to be some tumbles! I guess I can forgive myself for not adjusting to my lovely new partnership so very quickly.

Meanwhile, I went for two walks today, had plenty of naps, and did some light weight lifting.

In a way I can't wait to show off my new 'look' tomorrow...
My lips are pink.
My skin has COLOUR.
My hands seem softer and light.
And my voice is so clear!

Today, nature sided with my mood -- we clouded over, let ourselves be dark and released our inner frustrations.

SO tired of the lack of sleep due to treatments.
Tired of IVs.
. . . of CF being my life and definition.
. . . of being asked a million and one questions.
. . . of being sick on special occasions or my birthday.
. . . of temporary wellness.
. . . of living in limbo.
. . . of having barely enough time to take a shower.
. . . of constantly ordering supplies and booking appointments.
. . . of ALWAYS doing physio, that doesn't even seem to work anymore.
. . . of feeling like a 24-year-old trapped in the body of an 90-year-old.
. . . of being infantilized.
. . . of people telling me I don't look or act sick (though it is flattering).
. . . of being bored. 
. . . of exercising three times a week with (mostly) ex-smokers three times my age.
. . . of feeling unplugged.
. . . of being dependent on others.