To say I was ill is an understatement. It's bizarre to think about the illnesses that can knock those of us with CF down to the ground, and somehow we are able to make it back up--even if it is very, very slowly.
Two days after Christmas, I came down with what started with some of the worst intestinal pain I had experienced, which lasted through the night and then progressed to cold symptoms the next morning. After this--aches all over and pain all over. I could hardly move, was exhausted, nauseous, weak, with a dead voice, sore throat, and could feel the pain running from my head to toes, with fevers and sweats and dehydration. A couple days later, on Thursday, I broke out in an unusual rash all over my body, which sent me to the urgent care. The doctor tested me for the flu, and surely enough it came back positive. At this point, with all that was going on, I was absolutely desperate, and the doctor was worried that it would progress to my lungs and could lead to an exacerbation. They left a message for pulmonology department at the U of U to see if an admission would be a good option at this point. They took some chest x-rays, and as the x-ray technician had me stand there with my arms up, I pleaded inside me as it took every ounce of energy away just to stand there for 2 minutes, as the pain all over my body increased and I sure fought back from breaking down into tears. They sent me home with a prescription for Tamiflu, which my insurance rejected since they created a new rule you could only have it every six months, and I already reached that. (That should give you a good idea why my swear word is insurance.)
Surely enough, I woke up the next morning, feeling the crackling in my lungs and the taste of the buildup that was starting in my airways. My airways tightened up and stung and every breath, which led to a coughing fit, leading me to gasp for more air. More and then eventually darker sputum, and every step my foot took as I placed one in front of the other felt like a workout. Even the required steps to walk to the kitchen to take medications was a workout. For the first time ever, my doctor called me, which is usually left for my nurse to do. She expressed her concern and I was soon put on oral antibiotics. Over that weekend, more coughing fits where I couldn't stop, with the sight I had never seen before--yes, blood (luckily it was in small amounts). And on top of that, purple splotches on some patches of skin near my shoulder signifying I popped some vessels from all the coughing. To add to this, I didn't even want to put on my Vest, and that was the first time I had ever gone a week without it since it hurt too much with the pain all over (thankfully I figured out the alternative for how to do the nebulizers WITH the Pep devise!!)
I remember lying there on the couch, not sure what to do--wanting to take my mind off of it all by watching comedy but then being afraid of laughing since it hurt. Every coughing fit zapped my energy with everything else on top of it. I was hoping that these oral antibiotics would work, as I was on 3. I don't know how it all happened, but after about a week, things started to feel better. The coughing fits were the last to remain, but progress was progress. I remember going into the U of U, wondering what was to happen next, but since even a slight amount of progress was a good sign, I was to keep doing orals. After a week or so, the bruising from the coughing fits began to disappear, with less mucus and less nausea to eventually being able to eat solid food again. I kept up doing more treatments and taking the antibiotics. It was an absolute miracle that once again, the orals were working.
The time for recovery felt long--at least several weeks. Yes, I had the flu shot, and this is not to say flu shots don't matter, but instead I happened to catch another strand of flu that progressed to everything else with CF. Now, I look back. Over the past couple weeks, I have been able to not only walk again, but run and dance. I am able to eat full meals. I have not ended up in coughing fits for about 2 weeks. My human body never seizes to amaze me, as it comes out of some hard of the hardest, most excruciating illnesses time and time again.
Sometimes I don't know why I go through some things, as God tells me it's to help prepare me for future dreams and ambitions (I had never been more than willing to be patient for those things to come after this ;) ). Sometimes I wonder why things happen, but when I look back I am much more appreciative for the smallest things--even in this case, being able to place one foot in front of the other without pain. I think back to what God has helped me get through. It's comforting to know my Savior completely understands it all, as He felt it all.
This weekend, I had the sweet privilege of attending a phenomenal leadership conference at BYU. One of the quotes referenced was given by Steve Jobs, as he said, "You cannot connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backward..." When I heard this, it made sense. By looking back, I was able to see how far I had come, which gave me more motivation and enabling power to move forward.
It's truly a wonder when we look back and are able to think, "Wow...I did that." Because yes, you sure did, so never forget it.
