"When you come to the end of your rope, tie a knot and hang on."

~Franklin D. Roosevelt







Tuesday, March 10, 2015

FUELED.

Wow!!! ... Is all I can say to start this blog.  I am completely overwhelmed with the amount of love, encouragement, well wishes and support I received after posting my last blog.  I (for lack of better words) "went public" with my health situation, something that has been something I've sheltered for so long. I heard from people near and far.  I received emails and messages from people whom I've never met, from people I haven't talked to in years, best of friends and friends of friends, other people in similar situations ... and I can honestly say, receiving those messages, calls, texts ... literally propelled me into my appointment last week, so thank you to every single one of you that took time out to read my blog and send me some positive vibes.  You have no idea how much it means to not only myself, but my husband, my family.

So now an update and how the appointment went.  Every time I see the transplant team, I start off by registering and course paying "my dues", b/c of course money comes first (Eh hem, smirk).  Then comes the part that I get so anxious about - my pulmonary stress test and spiro test.  These are the two tests that the docs look at and compare to my previous performance to determine my "stability" (along with other factors, but these are really important).  For the pulmonary stress test, I have to walk "laps" (up and down a bare, sterile and quite frankly boring, hallway from cone to cone). They want to know how far I can walk, how quickly, do I need oxygen and if so how many much.  They measure my blood pressure before, right after and 5 minutes after finishing.  They also constantly monitor my oxygen levels and my heart rate.  For my walk this time my husband was my cheerleader along with the respiratory therapist performing the test.  I was able to walk about the same distance (even a little further) than my last walk test, I required less oxygen and at a lower level than my last test!!!  Every time I turned the corner and saw my husband at the end of the hall, I pushed a little more and remembered why I fight for every single breath.  The spiro is basically a measurement of my lung function.  I hook up to a machine, plug my nose and in the end, have to take the biggest possible breath in and then I am told to "blast" air out initially and then slow and steady.  This big blast of air at the beginning is called the FEV1, which is the volume of air exhaled during the first second of a forced expiratory breath. It's converted to a percentage that tells you what your lung function percent is at compared to someone your height, weight and age.  My lung function is at 25%.  Normal healthy people will have lung functions between 90-100% generally, especially at 32 years old.  Sooooo...it's obvious why it's a little hard to breathe these days.


Good news is, my numbers were stable!!  I literally take these appointments 3 months at a time (if not sooner).  I have had days where I thought I felt great and my numbers decreased slightly (like last time, when they hinted that I might need to be listed at this appointment), and other times when I feel not so great and my numbers will not change, so I really have no idea how I'll be going into these tests.  

The docs are still saying I am too early to be listed as an "active" on the transplant list. For those of you who don't know what this means, as soon as you go "active", you can receive a call any minute, of any day saying that they need me to be at the hospital to be prepped for the surgery.  Imagine...always being "on call", but this call will potentially save your life.  That thought alone is both frightening and exciting.  Being an active potential transplant recipient comes with a lot of stress and anxiety as you can imagine, for everyone involved.  ANY time your phone rings, it could be "the call".  Then, just b/c you get "the call" doesn't mean the surgery is "a go".  The transplant team has to perform MANY, MANY checks to ensure that those donor lungs are a perfect match for the recipient.  Surgery can be called off at any point if they feel they aren't a perfect match, that is called a "dry run" and they aren't uncommon.  

There is a whole new blog that I can write detailing the pre-post transplant life and I will save that for another time but for now I wanted to share the good news that I am still stable which is everything we hoped for!! This however I take very cautiously b/c things can change in a matter of hours/days for me.  One's normal cold can land me in the hospital on a ventilator needing a transplant ASAP.  I don't have the normal immune system everyone else has b/c of my PCD.  This is why I am a bit OCD on washing hands and cleanliness.  I am thinking positive though and I hope I continue to be able to keep my lungs as long as possible, as they are the best for me, despite being so damaged.  For now we continue to try and keep me as healthy as possible and hope for the best between now and my next appointment. 
I want to thank each and everyone of you for reading my blog and sending me well wishes.  I can honestly say that amount of goodness y'all sent to me game me a little extra jolt in my step for this past appointment, so THANK YOU!!!!  Please continue to keep me, my husband and family in your thoughts as every day is a struggle and we are dealing with a very serious and stressful situation.  I won't lie and say this is easy, but it makes it a little easier knowing we have the support of so many awesome people out there!!!

"Team Rebs"

Sunday, March 1, 2015

I LIVED.



                                                                   "Hoping you take that jump
But don't fear the fall
Hope when the water rises
You built a wall
Hoping the crowd screams out
Screaming your name
Hope if everybody runs
You choose to stay
Hope that you fall in love
And it hurts so bad
The only way you can know
Is give it all you have
And I hope that you don't suffer
But take the pain
Hope when the moment comes you say

I, I did it all

I, I did it all
I owned every second
That this world could give
I saw so many places
The things that I did
With every broken bone
I swear I lived"

In my lifetime, one thing I never want to do is look back and regret not "living" in the moment, for the moment and for the future.  This song encompasses many things.  It's music video actually features a Cystic Fibrosis patient (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z0rxydSolwU) I think many people with life threatening, chronic illnesses probably have similar feelings..or anyone who's really been challenged in life for that matter.  My "life expectancy" is not that of an average Joe, to put it bluntly.  Sure the average Joe could fall over from a heart attack at 50 years old, the average Joe could be in car accident at 20 years old.  But the average Joe ( who is not dealing with a lung function that is on the decline, with not much room to decline) would have what you might consider a normal life expectancy.  Of course, I want to defy the odds and I plan to.  Heck, I already have in my mind.  I was told 12 years ago that I would need a lung transplant 2 years ago, by the time I turned 30.  Screw you doc. I'm still kicking.  

I've just about finished a round of IV meds.  Yes, I feel so much better than before I started, but things are different now, than say 5 years ago.  Despite hardcore antibiotics, IV and oral steroids, rest, no work, much help from family and friends .... my body still hurts. It's fighting just to be.  I'm exhausted.  This disease is exhausting, that's one of the best descriptive words I can come up with to describe what it's like to deal with this daily.  Not only is it exhausting to just breathe and get through the day, but is a full time job keeping up with my medicine, my treatments, medical bills, doctor appointments ... I feel like I am fighting myself.  My mind wants to do normal things, be a normal 32 year old, but my body won't let me.  That is the tough and possibly the worst part.

The best part of all of this is that I realize how precious life is.  I appreciate those days/moments when I can take my dogs for a walk around the block.  I appreciate being able to go grocery shopping, being able to meet a friend for coffee or a glass of wine ... those "normal" things.  My perspective on life is mine, and it is something that cannot be taken away from me ... not this disease, not one person, nothing can change the thing that keeps me so positive despite, let's call it like it is, a shit show for a situation.  I am able to adapt to ever changing "norms".  Lots of people can't handle change.  I embrace it.  I value being able to adapt, I have to.  If my plan for today has to change b/c I am having a particularly tough day, so be it.  If I am hurting too much to go to the gym, okay fine.  If I can't make that trip we've been planning so long for, well crap, but it is what it is ... life goes on.  I can thank PCD for my ability to cope with change, appreciate life and value those things that the average person doesn't.  Life is much brighter, more enjoyable and a lot more fun when the smallest things bring the greatest pleasure.  I wouldn't trade that for anything. 

This week will be an interesting one.  I am due to finish IV's tomorrow (Monday). I have a transplant follow up appointment on Wednesday and we are traveling on Thursday.  I ask that whoever reads this, to send positive thoughts and vibes for me and my family for this Wednesday.  I already have anxiety about what the docs will say, where my numbers will be and what is to come.  One thing is for sure though, I will take it for what it is and walk away screaming "I Lived", b/c that is all one really can do.