First of all, Happy New Year, and thanks to those of you who've already stopped by! :o) It's been a pretty fabulous day; I woke up late, hung out downstairs with Gram and Fam, came up, did treatments/got ready and went to meet Megan for "lunch" at 12:30. I got home at 6:00. It was so great to catch up after all her Scotland adventures/holiday and graduation stories. I also got to wear my new boots. I finally broke down and bought a pair...ok 2 pair last week, and of course it's been 60+ degrees every day since. Mind you, I've been grateful for the mild weather, but I was also glad to have a day cold enough to wear my boots. :o)
As promised, I posted my "101 things" list over in the sidebar. I'll figure out some little system for indicating what's done and not when I actually accomplish something. I did start this blog, so I guess I can cross that off, but I don't think I should until I do something else and post about it, thus cementing the explicit and implied nature in the actual item listing.
Also, as promised, I'll give a brief rundown of my CF story. I was diagnosed at birth by meconeum illieus, which is basically when a newborn doesn't have thier first poo. Glorious, I know. Anywho, I had surgery to remove a nice stretch of my small intestine and take care of that darling problem as well as a procedure known as Nissen fundoplication to stop my precious projectile vomiting. Here I am, world! What a bundle of...joy. I wasn't released from the hospital until I was 6 weeks old, but once my parents started to wrap their heads around this "Cystic Fibrosis" nonsense and got my enzymes and other paraphenalia worked out, things were pretty peachy for a while. I was admitted a few times for IVs, observation etc while we got the kinks worked out, but by the time I started kindergarten I was a healthy, sassy, independent ball of energy who insisted on taking the school bus the first day of school, leaving my poor mother weepy at the corner.
From there on out, I operated on what I call in retrospect "rule of threes." I was hospitalized for what was known as a "tune-up", or IV antibiotics when you're not supersick, for the first time since preschool when I was in third grade. I also got my first PICC line at this time, an experience that was so scarring that I have only recently been having them placed without serious sedation. Another post for another time. Other than PICC horrors and the general unpleasantness of being cooped up at 8 years old, the experience was an oddly positive one for me; I recieved a large boquet of flowers from my dad, was able to eat spaghettios, corn, and jello for all meals (I loved all three at the time, my love for corn alone remains), got to play in a ginormous playroom and got lots of cards and visitors. And when my dad came by, he would blow up the latex gloves into freakish balloons and draw faces on them with sharpies that made me laugh until I cried. (He would still do this if I didn't object, and has still done so in more desperate attempts to distract us both from surrounding chaos. I confess it still works).
I credit this early positive experience, and others that followed, with my severely delayed realization and resentment of the true extent of this disease.
From there on out, I literally only had IV's in 6th, 9th, and 12th grade (well, the summer before 12th, but the minute you finish your last exam in high school you immediately self-identify as the class you'll be in August). So I wasn't new to IVs, and was pretty open about having CF until I change schools for my Junior and Senior years, but it didn't really register as anything extraordinary until my freshman year of college.
And that seems like a good place to stop for now. I'm off to enjoy the last of the bubbly with the maja and catch up on DVR'ed Daily Shows before I turn in. More to come...
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