Hope Sinks

Remember my last post, when I was so full of hope and excitement that if I can get myself as fit as I can, my life could change.

In my head, I had visions of hiking, doing normal household stuff and running errands, going out socially for more than 40 minutes, and even feeling well enough to go on a vacation (it has been 11years…we have planned so many trips that we had to cancel because I had to go into the hospital or was close to it).

Then I got sick. Too sick to start working out. MRSA sick with constant fevers, cough, sinus issues, and fatigue. Oh and the Flu. I took the Tamiflu and also started antibiotics. By the end of week 2 on antibiotics, I told the doctor I wasn’t feeling quite better and that probably I needed another week.

I finished week 3, and felt marginally better. Stronger. And as fate worked out, the weather was warming up enough to use my treadmill in the basement (it is not heated).

Three days after finishing the antibiotics, I started coughing, but figured that it was just left over stuff from the recent infection.

After another three days, I suddenly began coughing uncontrollably, felt my fever coming on, was feeling very junky in my lungs, and I knew that my MRSA was ramping up again.

I spoke to my doctors on Monday, who put me on a different antibiotic, and tonight – 24 hours later, laying on the couch unable to sleep, coughing which sounds like a pipe has burst, and having to wear my oxygen (which is a huge bummer because it had been weeks since I needed it more than a few hours at a time).

In the meantime, several members of my family have had their own issues to deal with, and I find myself having difficulty keeping my head above water.

I am tired of being sick. I’m tired of coughing. I’m tired of fevers ravaging my body with aches. I’m tired of having to judge whether doing a little laundry is going to force me to nap for three hours later That day or have to rest the entire day tomorrow.

I’m sorry that this is not a positive sounding post, but it’s almost midnight, I feel too awful to sleep, and my mind is racing with all the things that I am probably never going to get to do. Thanks I’ve been trying to do for years, thinks that any 46-year-old should be able to do. I’m sorry that this is not a positive sounding post, but it’s almost midnight, I feel too awful to sleep, and my mind is racing with all the things that I am probably never going to get to do. Things that I’ve been trying to do for years, things that any 46-year-old woman should be able to do.

The cliché about having your health being everything, is so damn accurate that it hurts. And what makes it worse is that I am watching the world go by. Outside, kids are playing and people are walking their dogs. The movies and TV shows I watch because I’ve read everything that I have and honestly cannot concentrate on anything else at this point – keep telling me where to go for vacation, parties I should be attending every weekend, planning for summer, etc., On Facebook, and in articles, I get to read about life as a parent, exotic places to travel to, and the cool/ fun/ amazing adventure others are experiencing.

I feel like there really isn’t much more to look forward to, when every time I try to plan something, whether it’s to go to the store myself, to work out, or to do something big like visiting my in-laws, my health blocks me from having a life.

Losing hope again.

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Reclaiming myself

It’s been two years since I ended my three-month stint on the then-new CF drug targeted at my particular mutation(s). If you recall, I had a lot of side effects and medication interactions that forced me to call a cease fire.

I lost a lot of lung function during that time, and have not yet been able to get back to where I was, prior to the medication.

Now, it could have been coincidence. I could still have had the series of CF lung exacerbations and hospitalizations had I not taken the medication. I might still have ended up needing Oxygen at home after one particular infection flare-up, and still need it when I am sick. I might still have lost a lot of strength during those hospitalizations. And certainly, it had nothing to do with having Sepsis a year ago.

All of that, plus my existing CF complications, have driven my overall strength, stamina and unfortunately, my willpower, to an all-time low.

I have decided, however, that I am not giving in. Strength and energy have lost in this war. Now it’s time to go to battle to regain what I have lost. It’s time to reclaim myself.

I was never an athelete, but I had strong lower body muscles from dancing in high school, going through ACL reconstrtion rehabilitation, and doing Pilates for the past 20 years. I very suddenly lost my calves of steel during a September 2016 hospitalization, and my overall muscle tone disappeared.

So I have decided the one thing I can do that can help support my body and improve my energy and strength is a solid commitment to fitness. I used to be a gym rat, but too-frequent infections, symptoms – pain and nausea – from chronic pancreatitis, and side effects from several medications, have collectively rendered my gym membership useless.

So I’m starting from scratch.

It all starts with walking. I need to build up my cardiovascular system to get help my lungs and strengthen my legs. I will then return to light-to-moderate weight training to increase my overall muscle mass and give me that strength boost hat I currently lack. And then move onto hiking outside. Maybe on the flats, but getting my groove on – outside in the Vitamin D and fresh air – will be amazing.

Yeah, I’m sure I’ve written about this stuff before, but I feel that so many of my systems can benefit from this new commitment. I have to do this. So I got out my whiteboard and started writing down all the possible benefits.

  • Better moods. Helping my depression and anxiety.
  • Strength to carry me when my lungs are working harder when sick.
  • Conditioning. Keeping my heart pumping efficiently.
  • Lung clearance. Nothing like a good cough to get that junk out!
  • Digestive support. Keeping things moving.
  • Energy to live. Housework, socializing, driving. Holidays.
  • Confidence. I’m tired of being weak and on the sidelines, feeling unworthy to contribute.

I am going public with my plan for accountability.

I may not move mountains, but at least I will be able to climb a few hills. And to me, right now, that can make all the difference in the world.

Waving the White Flag

Tomorrow, Tuesday, my doctors are admitting me for severe lung infections due to my cystic fibrosis.

Interestingly, it has been eight months since my last admission. I have been taking oral antibiotics to treat my MRSA infections, but after three months and several courses of these antibiotics, my lung function continues to drop and I continue to be actively sick. Aside from the MRSA, I have a handful of other bacterial strains that often Colonize CF lungs.

What stinks is that every time I go on antibiotics, I would start to feel a bit better, but within a week of finishing my 2 to 3 week course, I get sick again. I have to say it’s really hard to know when to wave the white flag and admit to my doctors that yes, I do need their intervention.

I will get a PICC line IV (long term, semi permanent) inserted into my arm or chest, which allows medication to go into my bigger veins were they won’t irritate the smaller veins closer to the surface.

The PICC line is usually a double lumen kind, which means that there are two tubes entering my vein so that I can have two medications or fluids running at the same time.

I will likely be taking a cocktail of three IV antibiotics, each with their own schedule.

Considering one of my medications runs for 12 hours a day, there are two other medications that have to run on their own schedules, and I usually receive IV fluids 24 hours a day to protect my kidneys, both IV lines are close to constantly being used.

Hence is the typical process of the 2 to 3 week hospitalization for a CF lung exacerbation.

It’s uncomfortable on so many levels, it can be painful, I get a lot of undesirable side effects, and I become sleepless and invariably stressed out. I feel bad for my nurses and my physician team because I get very emotional when I’m inpatient.

Depression and anxiety make things worse, as it does for many CF patients. Imagine being stuck in a 10 x 10 room, being allowed to leave the room only when scheduled for a test, having to eat, sleep, and do everything else from a lumpy bed in a tiny room with a window that often faces a bleak city scape. Oh, and going no longer than 10-20 minutes without someone walking into my room.

Despite all of the things I can and often do go wrong, however, I know that I am going inpatient to get better and to slow down the progression of the past few months. I am to the point where even getting up to shower by myself is a huge challenge, let alone being able to do do anything like cooking or cleaning or the basic stuff that people do when they live their lives.

So for the next few weeks, I will be doing everything in my power to stay calm and sane. I still have this option in my arsenal, so I am thankful. Not ready to think ahead to a point when no more antibiotics work for my bugs. Until then, I continue to fight.

Climbing back up the Mountain

I was discharged from the hospital 10 days ago, after nearly 3 weeks of intense antibiotic and airway therapy for a lung exacerbation due to Cystic Fibrosis.

It was the sickest I have ever been in my entire life – and I have had some doozies over the past several decades.

And it isn’t over yet. 

Since coming home, I had to get used to being on oxygen full-time. I am hoping and praying that I will not need it indefinitely, and that it is just a matter of recovery. But in the meantime, I depend on a machine to create the O2 and recieve it via a nasal cannula.

At home, I am attached to this…


But we bit the bullet and decided to get a portable Oxygen concentrator to allow me to leave the house without those heavy canisters. It runs on electricity and batteries, and when fully charged, lasts 8-9 hours (based on the amount of oxygen I need right now).


With batteries, it is about 7 pounds. It seems a whole lot better than worrying about filling canisters and having enough around.

I do have a giant canister that lasts about 6 hours, in case of power outage, sitting in the corner just in case. 


I have some more tests to get done this week and will see my CF doctors next week to see how my lungs and kidneys are doing. As soon as my creatine levels are back in a healthy range, I am going back on inhaled Coliston (the last resort antibiotic) for a month or so, to try to keep one particular bug from blowing up again.

My priorities now are getting stronger, trying to regain some of the 8 pounds I lost, keeping my lungs as clear as possible, resting, and tryig to do some “normal” things. Folding laundry, fixing a meal, walking to and from the kitchen to keep my water bottle filled…seriously, I have to super hydrate, so I fill it up every hour or so.

Then there is the very important task of reorienting my kitties to a mommy-ruled domicile. Daddy has a tendency to spoil them when I am not around! I admit that it has been hard not to spoil them since I came home – I missed them so much!!

I am also dealing with a lot of conflicting feelings – gratitude over my recovery, fear about how sick I was, dread that this isn’t the worst I will face, but joy that right now, I feel safe and relatively comfortable.

I just have to remind myself from where I’ve traveled. And that my husband and family are here to help me along this journey.

Back at the Hospital…

I am on day six of yet another stay at “Club Med”.

“Club Med” is how many Cystic Fibrosis patients affectionaty refer to the hospital.

This is becoming a bad habit. I was just here in May for pneumonia infections and IV antibiotic treatment, as well as last December, and June, and 3 days later, back into the hospital for an intestinal blockage a week later…

You get the idea. Continue reading

The Marathon Continues

My life has become a marathon. Whereas in the past, through my childhood and teen years, and even well into adulthood, my health was a series of stops and starts – a lot of sprints and then recovery time. But now, there’s no clearly defined periods of wellness or sickness. It’s all one, long, nonstop flight to infinity.

Big Hill Ahead!

My doctor appointment last week showed that I’m experiencing another lung flare-up/exacerbation/active infections. With more bugs than I can count on one hand, it’s a crap shoot to figure out which of the bacterial strains actively growing are making the loudest noise.

My lung functions are down, I’ve lost weight, and I’m worn out. My doctor suggested that they admit directly from my appointment, but I begged them to give me some time with oral antibiotics (hoping that they some of the bacteria that’s acting up responds to them) and increasing my airway clearance (as close to six hours a day as I can do). Continue reading

Back in the Hospital

So after being home for just a few days, I am back in the hospital. I’ll post something longer once I get home, because it’s kind of hard to write an entire blog post using just my phone.

My bowel is obstructed and I have a blood clot in my spleen. I am still being treated with IV antibiotics for my pneumonia, so it’s basically a trifecta of hell.

I am feeling better each day, but it’s been pretty grueling, physically and mentally. It gets pretty lonely – counting the minutes until each medication infusion is done, or agonizing over each second until medication brings relief for my various discomforts.

I watch the sun rise and set out this window, stuck in this box of four walls that seem to close in inch by inch, moment by moment.

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I apologize for the utterly depressive nature of this post, but right now, my mind just feels so dark.

These feelings are some of the most intolerable aspects of my disease – the isolation, the feeling of imprisonment, the sense that I am left behind.

I know that my feelings will likely elevate with tomorrow’s sunrise, but right now, I can’t see the light.