So it's been a hard week of dry runs for the cystic gals. Piper's lungs were a-no-go, Jess' lungs were a-no-go. But CF Steph is kicking ass and taking names at the hospital where I go!!
Piper was quite eloquent in pointing out to all of us that when it is not our time, it is another person's time. Jess was quite silly in pointing out that 12 hours after being NPO, you are a ninja of hungriness and might just feel a little bit like, "No Lungs, No Peace." That is our mantra!! No matter how many times we text it, we get a giggle out of NO LUNGS, NO PEACE.
Also, "All we are saying, is give lungs a chance." That's pretty funny too.
Tomorrow is my poetry reading. I am super excited and only a wee bit nervous about it. Cookies will be served.
Today I had both doctors (cf and tx). Ugh. I don't know what continues to be so wrong with my brain. No matter how many times I go to the doctor, no matter how many times I think, "I will remain calm and polite at the doctor," it does not happen. If any little thing goes wrong (and 5 things always go wrong,) I get all panicky and sweaty and "don't touch me," and "please don't call me sweetie," and I just make the whole situation bad when it is actually just fine. I mean, I am so sick of myself about this issue. I cannot endure me at the doctor. Imagine my poor mother, the doctors and nurses, the PFT person!! I might as well wear a t-shirt that says, "I am a crazy biotch." I also get this really dark sense of humor that no one seems to enjoy but me. Ughie.
Public apology to all : I'm crazy at the doctor. I'm working on it! I'm freaking sorrrry!