It’s been a HOT minute since I’ve written a blog post, and to be honest with you, I’m struggling with confidence in my writing right now.
But to you, my lovely viewers, I feel like it’s my responsibility to let you in and let you know what’s been going on.
First of all, this summer was a straight-up HURRICANE in the best possible way!
The hubs and I traveled a lot, hung out with our favorite teenagers (we are youth pastors, incase you forgot), swam in a volcano in El Salvador, swam in the Pacific Ocean, and surfed…yes, you heard that right…SURFED in the Atlantic Ocean. So needless to say, my summer was not dull even for a moment and I embraced every single part of it with every ounce of energy my body could muster up.
But a few times throughout the summer, I had days where I just didn’t feel good. Like, literally just couldn’t find the energy some days…can you relate?
But, I’d get over it after a day or two of rest and then I’d pick myself up and keep on going.
And then the summer ended…
Zach and I hit the ground running from summer to August, when our church’s semester kicked back off and we dove into our TRIBE (youth group) services. I love that time of year…when students go back to school and we get to be their “breath of fresh air” on a Wednesday night to break up their week. It’s just such a sweet time to see them unwind and take a break from school and high school drama.
But in the midst of the excitement, I felt my body failing me.
I had not truly been “sick”…like CF sick…in a year and a half. Literally since the two weeks before Zach and I got married. And I just knew it was coming. My lungs were heavy. My body was weak. My asthma was going nuts. I was just a mess.
I tried so hard to ignore it, but I knew I had a clinic appointment coming up and I felt that the inevitable was coming…
So fast forward a few weeks to September…
I went to my doctor and sure enough, my lung function was almost 10% lower than it had been in a year and a half. And I just didn’t feel good.
So between my doctor’s and my decision, a hospital stay was necessary. So in I went.
My husband was amazing and handled it all with grace and helped me to keep my head up through the entire thing; and my mom sacrificed her vacation weekend to come and stay with me to relieve Zach (because as a side note, he was in charge of preaching BOTH Sunday services and ended up having to lead worship for both services…while his wife was in the hospital…y’all, he’s literally a saint).
So I was released on home IV antibiotics (with a PICC line in my chest) a few days later and here I sit now.
I was hoping to have them out by now and get back to normal life…you know…things like taking a full body shower (it’s the small things in life that you miss sometimes). In the back of my mind, I knew I wouldn’t get it out…I still felt bad and couldn’t breathe well. However, there is still that sense of disappointment when the doctor comes in and tells you that your lung function is a little lower than it was when you went in the hospital and they want to change your meds and keep you on IV’s for 10 more days.
Yet, I deal and keep going.
In the midst of all that’s going on, I’ve been living in a state of defeat. And while I KNOW beyond a shadow of a doubt that this is the best thing for me, I am still a person and I want so desperately to be back to my “normal” self. Waking up at 7 and going to bed after midnight is not ideal for beauty sleep.
Cystic fibrosis is an invisible illness and a ruthless one at that.
Thanks to Jesus and an amazing support group in my husband, friends, and family, I am able to keep going. What’s that phrase? “When the going gets tough, the tough keep going?” And that’s how I choose to live my life. That’s not to say that there aren’t days when I want to throw in the towel and quit (because TRUST me, there are), but I remember who (me) and what (the cure for CF) I’m fighting for and pray for the strength to do it.
So when CF tries to tell me “you can’t” I quickly and with
so much sass clap back at it and say “ACTUALLY, I CAN”!