Learning to listen

The hardest thing, by far, in batteling CF is learning.
Learning to adjust and learning how to listen.

Over the years my knowledge of CF has come on leaps and bounds , I understand the terminology, the facts, the science & how it affects the body,  I can picture what it is doing, I can feel what it is doing.
But the most valuable lesson I have learnt, is to listen to my own body as over the years it has required so much more.

I used to work in an office for an events complex, 6 hours a day, answering phones, taking bookings, payments, banking, ordering things the Buisness needed, and I enjoyed it, mainly due to the fact that I worked with family.
I also was the bar superviser for the same place, so would run the bar at weekends.
I loved my job, I liked speaking to people and I liked having a purpose to get up in the morning.
I left my job two years ago, as the hospital admissions increased, I was having more and more time off, and when I was there I felt less than useless, I couldn't be on my feet at the bar so would find myself sneaking of just to sit down and catch my breath.
I was deliriously tired during the day and was making mistakes in the office, booking people in for the wrong event, miscalculating the PDQ machine. My treatment was majorly neglected and put on the back burner as I was simply too exhausted to do it all.
So a vicious circle of missing treatment, feeling ill, working, feeling tired, so missing more treatment began.
My health made quite a sudden decline from a fairly acceptable 60 % to 40%
I decided to leave work and focus on my health before much more damage was done.
Learning to adjust to the increased regime was tough, I would wake up in the morning, feeling depressed and like I didn't have a purpose, I'd just roll over and sleep hours away, treatment still being neglected.
After many months of being stuck in a rut and more lung function decline, I decided things needed to change.
My adherence increased, I wasn't missing medications, I learnt to admit myself for Ivs as soon as I was poorly not waiting for weeks on end declining at home, convincing myself I was fine.
A year on from this my health still was not particularly going in the right direction. My lung function now sitting in the 30s, my treatment regime was to increase again
My lungs functioning on such a low level meant I could no longer do the things I would do with ease.
I used to get up do the housework, walk the dog, go to work, socialise, go clubbing and drink far to much. Nothing particularly needed much effort or pre planning.

Learning to adjust to my new life was quite a roller coaster, pre planning trips became the norm.
I could only manage 1-2 tasks per day, maybe a bit of shopping or seeing a friend, maybe light housework the next day. And mostly learning to adjust to a life with oxygen.
My mind is extremely active, too active infact, in the mornings it will plan a full day of things to do, when in reality my body Is struggling to keep up with my mind.
Many a time I would completely ignore my body and push it so hard to do the things my mind so wanted me to do, then at the end of the day when my body was screaming in pain and exhaustion I would beat myself up "why did you push yourself that hard" " your not superwomen" " you can't do this anymore"
I would fall in to bed, not just tired but exhausted, my lungs protesting with any movement, the cough causing tearing pain through my ribcage, my head feeling like it would explode from the pressure of coughing. My bones would hurt, I'd be curled up like an old lady, I'd even shake from pain and fatigue, my mind nothing but fuzz as it tried to contemplate the day and how I went wrong, how I caused myself to get in this state.
Over these months the adjustment period to what I can and can't do was actually harder than adjusting to my state of health, I knew I was poorly but actually having to change my life was something I felt far to much. I could accept I was Ill, that I had cf, that I wasn't inevitable but I couldn't seem to accept the limitations that came with it.
I was causing myself to be iller with my stubbornness.
My body was exhausted but my mind still so willing.
As time has gone on the learning process has been a great one, and one that has empowered me in a different way. As annoying as rest days are, they encourage me to focus my energy elsewhere.

Today is one of those days.

After a few days of what my body classes as strenuous, I have decided to take a day out, I'm in bed with daytime home makeover programmes, tea and plenty of snacks, I'm doing extra nebulisers and lots and lots of gentle physio.
Keeping my chest clear will always be an essential but to rest my body is more essential than that.
This however does not cure that pesky brain that runs a 2000 miles an hour.
Another learning curve was the lesson in focusing the energy my mind has.
I won't go in too to much detail just now as I don't wish to jinx any of my plans, but I have been extremely pro activ towards causes that are close to my heart. Obviously Cystic Fibrosis, but also organ donation, while my body is resting in my extremely comfortable bed my mind is as ever, busy. 

Im eMailing and arranging events to raise awareness to both CF and organ donation.
I have made a few contacts and lets just say that hopefully you will be seeing a little more of me in a an exciting way.
Once things are a little more sorted out I will share my plans with you, but for now its a work in progress :) 

Learning never exhausts the mind - Leonardo Da Vinci

Just an update...

My last few blogs have been quite generalised about CF, so I thought this one I would give an update on how my personnel life, health and relationships are.

 I took some time out from blogging last year as I felt my health was overtaking my life and speaking of it, and its tremendous decline was not helping towards my depression or acceptance to my current state of health. 

A lot has changed in the last year. It's like I'm a whole different person writing this today. One thing that has not changed is my love of Starbucks as I'm writing this curled up on a chair with a iced caramel latte, and of course sat with Clare, she'll forever be a constant in my life, I just can't get rid of her ;) 

 I guess the most major change in my life is happiness and acceptance of the current. My Relationship with Martin came to an end, a long over due end which was more than amicable as we could both see we were wrong for each other and brung the absolute worst out in each other, our relationship was destructive and we were destroying each other mentally. A relationship with lack of communication and support was bound to end, especially when support was something I needed more than ever with my declining health. I'm happy to say that we are both happy, have moved on and their are no hard feelings or hurt on either part. 

 The realisation that my relationship was over gave me a new awakening to life, I knew what I wanted to make me happy. I felt strong and empowered, ready to take on the world again. And with this came socialising and meeting new people, new friendships were formed and a confidence in me began to grow. After many months of living the social single life I felt like I was missing out on one thing that I had always craved. Love, attention and affection.

 Through encouragement of a few friends, who had tried and tested the taboo world of online dating, I decided to sign up, what did I have to loose, I'd been single for a while and my ego needed a slight boost as most people's do at some point in their lives, I felt good about myself but almost craved that recognition from the opposite of sex for validation. 

The messages started coming, "you look gorgeous, wanna meet up for fun" wink wink, "you look like the sort of girl who would look good in my bed"

 Absolute disbelief and shock washed over me as I was discussing these morons with Clare (over a coffee) I said to her I felt like a piece of meat, being window shopped by men who just wanted me for one night, I wasn't sure I wanted a serious relationship, but I wanted more than that, no wonder the world of online dating has just a reputation, this reputation was proving itself to me with every sleazy message that popped up in my inbox. I didn't fancy shopping for a man online, I was going to deactivate my account and online shop for shoes, guaranteed satisfaction everytime ;)

 So I logged in to my account, flicked through the final messages of sleaze in my inbox and located the deactivate button, a quick flick of my eyes over the screen one last time and something stopped me. Now I'm going to sound like a mills and boon novel here, but a guys picture really caught my eye, what can I say I'm a sucker for dimples, so a quick change of heart, I thought ok so im not going to meet my mr right on plenty of fish but if I can't beat them ill join them... so I clicked on mr dimples picture and sent him the most cringe worthy message EVER...

Hi, couldn't pass by and not say hello to someone with such a cute smile...send! Oh my god, I was Laughing with Clare at the sheer pathetic content of that message, defiantly one that would be worthy of the recycling bin if it was in my inbox...but to my surprise an almost instant reply,.. Haha thanks, you look really beautiful.... oh let the cheese begin. 

 We ended up messaging for some time, and I found myself looking forward to the beep of the online app, Tom had messages again I gushed to Clare. After some weeks we swopped numbers and continued to talk over text, we both deactivated our accounts from that point.

 I could continue and tell you how we met, where we went on dates, at what point we felt this was something special, even the point we fell in love, but I won't. I'll just say when we did fall in love & I felt happy.

 Moving forward 14 months and me and Tom are living together and he has given me courage, strength, and a love I never thought could actually happen. A truly amazing strong man has that has not only changed my life for the better he has given me a positivity I never thought existed in me, we are now fighting together and I have to Win this fight now, for what better reason is there than happiness to keep you alive.

 My last blog, as I recall was based on the fact my lung function was stuck in the 30's this is still unfortunately the case. This is quite possibly the sickest I have ever actually been, my lung function is sitting stubborn in the low 30's. There has been the addition of oxygen, I use this on movement, I.E housework, walking, anything really aside from sitting still and sleeping. The absolute horror of having to overcome leaving my house with an oxygen cylinder strapped to my back was more than I can bare. In fact I refused to leave the house for many months while I adjusted to this visible sign that I wasn't the same as my piers, I was in fact sick, something I had always tried to hide, but here it was every evidence of sickness was visible with the nasal specs up my nose as I moved through the swarms of people staring at me as. Even worse when I was in my wheelchair which is now essential for long journeys.

I was everything I never wanted to be, but yet somehow once I got over the embarrassment, and realisation that I would die far to soon without these aids which my lungs so badly craved, I almost embraced this new look. I almost took on a gay mans 'I'm here and queer chant'  accept it was I'm here and I have a tank of air. 

This tank of air was the thing that was allowing my lease of life, it's surprising how you can actually walk a little further with that magical substance called oxygen, something god so kindly forgot to gave me a good enough supply off :) 

The stares that used to render me useless, a crying mess in the middle of town was now, my new accessory, like a handbag, I embraced the stares. I may be a slightly different, and my face furniture may not be stylish gok wans but its my face furniture and I'm strangely proud of it. It's got me to where I am now, so for that I have to love olly and will...(olly the oxygen tank and will the wheelchair)

 I don't feel I want to talk about my health much more than that at the moment, I'm not entirely sure why, but I think it's because I don't want every aspect of my blog to be about mundane Cystic Fibrosis, it does get boring :)

 I think I'll talk more next time, so Untill then....

Thanks for reading :)

Tattoo Pictures

 My tattoo, 'They now fly with angels, They now breathe easy...In memory of my 2 friends, Danny Valentine and Jamie Moles, R.I.P Angels

Toms tattoo 'Cystic Fibrosis-I wish time was on our side

Two pieces of art, dedicated to Cystic Fibrosis and just two of the people it took too soon xxxx

Me and Tommy

A photo purely to see if I could figure out how to upload pics....Ta dah :)

Cf - 'Sufferer' ??

Collins English Dictionary defines the word suffer in this way.. 

Verb:

To undergo or be subjected to (pain, punishment, etc) 

To undergo or experience (anything) ⇒ to suffer a change of management 

To be set at a disadvantage ⇒ this author suffers in translation

To be prepared to endure (pain, death, etc) 

 As a sufferer of Cystic Fibrosis I find myself looking towards the meaning of the word, and its negativity. 

"Be subjected to pain or death" 

Death in all of us is inevitable, it's the one thing we can guarantee in life. But should death mean making old age in a painless way. 

 Everyone at some point will most likely suffer from something, illness, heartache, depression but most of these are short term, something the mind and body can overcome with help, encouragement and possibly medication. 

So I ask my self if suffering is actually the correct word for a long term illness. True you will suffer in ways most healthy people wouldn't but on balance I feel sick people actually have a healthier outlook on life, a passion, a yearning to better themselves and do things they were told they never could.

 The illness itself seems to be much less dramatic to the sufferer than it is to their piers, as its there life, it's day to day living which seems so normal, no matter how abnormal it actually is. 

 I realised recently that the life i deal with everyday may in fact be viewed as abnormal. I was arranging a weekend away with my partner. Of course we went through the rigmarole of choosing a destination, the hotel, any extras we wanted to include in our booking. For most this would have been the end of it, a weekend in the Cotswolds booked, done and dusted, but then the abnormality part of my break kicked in. 

 I had 2 nights and 3 days away from home, I would have to ensure I filled my medication case precisely so nothing was missed. 

 140 tablets packed in their separate containers, 20 each morning, 10 each night and a further 30 during the course of each day. 

Two inhalers. 

 Two separate nebuliser compressors for 3 different inhaled medications, as well as a cool bag to keep them at the correct temperature. 

Insulin pen, blood glucose monitor, testing strips, needles and a good supply of glucose tablets

 Nasal spray and gel. 

Portable oxygen cylinder, the mains charger, the in car charger, the back up oxygen cylinder should the first one fail, along with different masks/nasal cannula for each cylinder.

 A jab containing adrenalin should i have an allergic reaction. 

My prescription slip and a letter from my healthcare team should I need to be admitted to hospital if I get acutely unwell and need to be admitted to a hospital when I'm there. 

 My wheelchair I'm not even sure if that's all of it as I don't have my usual checklist to hand. 

That was just the packing. Before all of that could actually happen I had to ensure my chest was in optimum condition so I had to arrange a course of antibiotics to last 2 weeks prior to my breakaway to ensure any bugs that may have been brewing in my chest were killed off so there was less chance of a flare up whilst I was away. 

Our English dictionary defines 'suffer' to be set at a disadvantage. In many ways I know, and can accept that I am at a disadvantage, yet it somehow feels so normal.

Another definition is to endure pain, which I feel is the more relevant definition in association with Cystic Fibrosis, I have wrote in detail before how the pain of CF can be so debilitating and unlike any other pain I have known, it's a tormenting mental pain as well as a physical pain

What does suffer mean to the majority, a question I often find myself asking.....

Great Things

If you cannot do great things, do small things in a great way - Napoleon Hill

 As an author of literature, I feel Napoleons words, in some way, should be recognised as insightful and true.

I know I will never, in my eyes, do great things, so I do strive to do small things well. But do people's opinion of great things differ in many ways?

 Making old age I won't, that great thing is unachievable, but the small things I do along the way I hope are great. 

The love I show for my friends and family are great, as is my gratitude for their care.

 The respect I show for my healthcare team is great. 

But I fear my life achievements are not in there selves great. I know many things I'd like to do are limited, my high flying career as a doctor unfortunately will never happen, I would pose to much of an infection risk to patients, as they would me. 

 Travelling through Europe, isn't what I would call an impossibility, but the sheer spontaneity of my illness would make it extremely difficult, not to mention the cost of insurance as an oxygen user. 

 Having children, again not an impossibility but before transplantation of my lungs would be unbelievably reckless and irresponsible, not to mention selfish, as my longing to be a parent could possibly leave a young baby and and boyfriend without me.

 These are what I call 'great things' achievements....normality.

 I'm very optimistic that I will find a donor when my time comes, and even more optimistic that I will recover well. I am also realistic, so would not go in to this procedure not knowing the risks and difficulty of it, mentally and physically, but without optimism, without hope, where would we be.

 Untill I'm post transplant I know I need to keep my plans on the back burner and concentrate on the now....the smaller things.... Maintaining my current health of 32% lung function, by continuing with hospital admissions, the medications, inhalers, nebulisers, increased calorie intake, oxygen & physio. A small price to pay for health and happiness.

I feel I have a great life, I have my home, my friends, family & partner. I'm very lucky to have the support network that i do, which I know many people don't, I have never gone without things (other than a little oxygen and lung function) ;)

But I am happy, more than happy. I feel lucky and appreciated and most of all loved.

Maybe all these small things, are infact, some of life's greatest things. 

Maybe great is just how you perceive it?.......

vanity vs health

Day 16, in the NHS House *said in big brother voice*

So as most people will know, following my previous post i was admitted in to hospital..no shock there.
Its been rough going, this blog may sound like a lot of waffle but i will try to update you as best i can:

Thankfully i made it to my friends wedding, which was the reason i was putting of coming in to hospital, im so glad i got to go it was a beautiful ceremony and the bride looked stunning, as expected i struggled, but did not want to miss it, i survived the day on painkillers and hot cups of tea. Lots of people were looking at me strangely must have been wondering why a young girl was cradling pots of tea when there was an open bar, but i was just glad i was there :)
When i got home that friday night i felt like my lungs had been torn in half i hobbled up to bed and went to sleep in an instant.

When i woke Saturday morning the pain in my lungs was excruciating, i could only lay with a pillow under my left side, i was arched over the pillow with my legs drawn in tight, i couldn't move my breathing was very shallow. I got martin to ring my mum as i always want mum or dad when im ill, such a kid lol,when she got there she put her foot down and demanded i rung the hospital but i was adamant i wouldn't be admitted at the weekend as there is limited staff. She called anyway and spoke to the on call doctor he wasn't to sure what to do so phoned my consultant who said bring her up straight away. With limited movement getting up and packing a bag was difficult. My dad drove me to the hospital and wheeled me up to the ward where the doctor was already waiting. He immediately done my observations. My heart rate was 142 my oxygen levels 88, temperature was 38.4
I got straight in bed to rest and was started on 4 liters of oxygen which quite quickly took my o2 levels up to 92.
2 Intravenous Antibiotics were started and 1 Antibiotic nebuliser was given. Lots of blood was taken for cultures to figure out infection levels and to see why i was spiking such high temps.
I cant really tell you of much that happened until the Tuesday as i slept day and night, waking briefly to see the family.
From the start of this infection i hadn't eaten so my weight dropped from a reasonably acceptable 7 stone 9 to a very unacceptable 6 stone 2. All of the team were very worried that they hadn't seen one piece of food or drink pass my lips in days, even the catering staff seemed concerned as i would usually order quite a lot of food but the thought of having to eat turned my stomach i just felt to poorly.

When i met with my team on the Monday my Dr, Dr Kuitert assured me she would get me feeling better so i put my trust in her and her knowledge and slept for a further five days why the nursing staff administered all i needed

Jumping forward a week to the following Thursday i again met with Dr kuitert. with just over a week and no improvement, still just blowing 30% lung function and o2 sitting stubborn at 92 but now on 2 liters of oxygen she decided to add in a 4th antibiotic started to try to bring the temperature down and with my infection levels in my blood sky high they knew lots of help was needed.
 I was also started on a drug called Megace. Megace is traditionally used to treat women with breast or cervical cancer but a side effect of it is increased appetite and weight gain so it is used in CF when all else doesn't seem to be working. My tube feeding regime was also increased by 1500 a day. I had a meeting with the psychologist and dietician who both agreed was as much mental as it is physical. They explained to me that i had gone so long not eating my stomach had shrunk to the size of a walnut. Also the brain somehow switches of its receptors to hunger as it forget what it feels like, so i never actually felt the need for food. If i did eat i felt sick and full so quickly so in turn ate even less, bit of a circle really.
In todays ward round the option of a PEG was offered to me. This is a small tube that goes directly into the stomach with a kind of cap that you can open and close to connect the feed to. The tube is surgically inserted by making a hole in the skin through to the muscle and stomach lining where it then sits in the stomach. It eliminates the need for an NG tube which is a temporary tube that is placed up the nose, down the throat and in to the stomach. The difference being that it is a more permanent measure and much less uncomfortable than having to pass a tube down every night. The Peg does come with its own problems, the main one being that the cap is visible on the belly, its like a plastic lid so can be seen if wearing tight clothing or going swimming etc which i love to do. Its something i need to think about, its a case of vanity over health which unfortunately is the case for many CF patients, especially women. 

Im going to leave this blog there, im having a bit of writers blog and am finding it hard to piece things together especially as i keep being disturbed
Hope i wasn't to boring :)