Seeing Through the Fog

In my last post I wrote about finding my sanity, re-calibrating. Then, I lost my marbles. 

There have been a few bumps in the road, but just the fact that I'm able to focus long enough to write this and control my fingers to type this is progress I will gladly take! 

It's been more than two weeks since my last post and during that time I've had two CF clinic appointments (both of which my health had taken a step backward), which has meant two drug shake-ups and a ticket back to side effect hell. 

I won't bore you with all the nitty-gritty, but I will say the worst of the adverse effects were: Kidney strain (forcing me to stop one of the antibiotics), "foggy brain" (where I could barely think straight, couldn't hold a thought and had a really hard time finding my words) and involuntary hand movements which included dropping things daily and difficulty typing because my fingers would jump to the wrong letters. Writing one short text would take me 2+ minutes because there'd be so many errors to correct. If you see any typos in this post, please forgive me.

Compacting the setbacks, one of the muscles around my rib cage "popped" out of place, causing intense pain every time I cough, inhale, lie down or make a wrong move. Coincidentally enough it's also right around the area of my lungs that needs the most aggressive therapy. Because the pain is making it difficult to be aggressive, I was warned this may set me back a little further [insert eye roll]. Yet despite the past few weeks I'm steadfast to my belief that by thinking living optimistically and focusing my energy only on the areas I have power, I will improve dammit!

It's been both challenging and humbling to be at the mercy of the past few weeks. There have been a few tears shed, but I know all too well that resisting my reality only fuels the fire. I've accepted what is and have been trying my best to just 'be' and make the most of what I've got. It's helped.

Like last winter, this has been a long road to healing -- not only for me, but for my family as well. It really does take a toll on all of us. I'd be lying if I said my heart didn't harbor any guilt. Seeing the pain in their eyes cuts like a knife, but I'm grateful they can share it with me and not stuff in deep inside where it would multiply like gremlins in the rain. 

If it weren't so friggin' frigid outside I'd be right back at my happy place near the ocean. Instead I will create simple, quiet happy moments wherever I can. I will hold on tight to my determination and inner peace, and I will take snuggles every chance I get.

Upward and onward... 

Holiday cheer at the hospital