Doctor Day

Doctor Day came and went again. I am back on the every two week schedule. My PFT scores were not at all impressive. I chose the least agressive of the options, inhaled antibiotics. We are trying two at one time to see if they work their magic. I have a good track record with one of them so hopefully it will do the trick. Of course, that means that we are going from 6 nebs a day to 11 nebs a day. Depending on the medicine, it takes 5 to 15 minutes per neb. You can do the math and figure out it is not really pretty.

So, we need things to bounce back. Until then, I am skipping the trainer on Monday and trying to elminate stress. Apparently, my little body has enough stress all on its own. My oxygen rate is also not cooperating making me a little more tired than normal and a little slower on the stairs. My trip upstairs at my house is usually the first sign of trouble. I used to think it would be better to live without them but it does force you to exercise if you want to sleep in your own bed.

Today went a little better with a fun field trip for my daughter's Chinese class. We never did find the school bus with all of her friends but it was a great day to get some fresh air and take a walk. Just as I got to the end of the Trick or Treat Trail, I started to wonder if it was such a good idea. I made it all the way out to the maze which was not short trip. Then, a nice man pulling the train appeared. I told my husband, "If God sends you a train, you should get on."

Blessings,

Cindy

Go Away!

About the time that I realized that I had a low grade fever last week, I also noticed my husband had called my cell phone five times while I left it in my car. He was getting shipped out for work in two days. He would just be gone four days and three nights. Of course, you can't tell my daughter that. Her biggest concern about his travels continues to be who will kissie us to go to bed. I tried to convince her that a trip to Ohio was a lot better than being sent off to Germany or India or Mexico for weeks on end. (It is fair to say that I would never make it as a military wife.) She doesn't see it that way at all.

So, today, as I was trying to lift the weights that my trainer lovingly provided, I decided it was time to make some changes. I like to volunteer but I need to work out. When I don't feel good which is more often than I like to admit, I don't have the energy to execute all of the shoulds in life. Everyone has them. I should call so and so after I plan some meals so I can stop at the grocery. Wait, I forgot my deposit at the bank and now it is time for crafts according to my daughter. This is the way a typical conversation plays out in my head. Of course, at the end of the day, I hate the big blue X on my calendar if I don't work out. It is fair to say that I am a self imposed overachiever who is failing in some regards.

This weekend, I got to spend lots of time hanging out with my daughter and her best friend. I prefer to spend more time having fun and less time cleaning or trudging through the grocery store especially when the snow flies. So, I am going to find out if my cleaning lady really moved to Hawaii or just thought I was too much to take on in her life. (Who can blame her really?) I am also going to utilize my coupon for Coborn's and see if a weekly delivery of groceries makes any difference in my cooking or my energy level. They want to deliver me groceries for free for 3 months. I mean why would anyone turn that away.

So, this is me putting the green germs on warning. Go away! I am tired of you. My petite body is tired of you. My darling daughter helped me pick out work clothes that are in "fashion" so consider yourself notified. (She claims she has a good "fashion sense.") Please go away! I have four days to make you go away and I would like you to cooperate.

Blessings,

Cindy

Sing

I go back and forth between loving and hating Facebook. I spend way too much time keeping up with folks that might not recognize me if I picked up the phone. Today though it served me well. Based on a friend's post, I checked out the classic country music at the Pandora website. It was not only a great suggestion but they include lyrics as the music plays. So, while I sang along to "Mama's Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Cowgirls", my daughter looked at me like I had lost my mind. She also corrected me to remind me that it is cowboys, not cowgirls.

I have a good friend who is fond of saying that I am a little bit country and a little bit rock and roll. It is really a pretty good description. Of course, he knows where I come from and some of my people so he might have extra insight. After my daughter started to dance today and clap along to my latest discovery, I concluded that nurture might have more to do with how kids turn out than we like to think.

We were having such a good time that I offered to show her Kenny on Youtube. On our way to school today, she wanted to know if Kenny looks like Blake. (That would be Kenny Rogers and Blake Shelton, her favorite singer.) When I showed her the very old video of Kenny, she said, "Oh, he's handsome." I mean a girl just can't make this stuff up. She wanted to know who the girl was singing with him. I responded, "Oh, that's Dolly." She said, "Is she a dolly to play with?" "No, she is a real girl, Dolly Parton."

A few years ago, my former doctor was explaining to me his theory about singing. He had a set of twin patients with CF and the one who was in a band and sang for several hours a week had better lung function than the other twin. He thought maybe I should join the church choir or sing on my commute. Obviously, he had never heard me sing.

This is the same girl who pooled her money with my friends in high school so we could drive the 30 minutes to the only place near my house that let kids under 21 come to dance once a week. I am also the same girl who could be found at the local jazz club in college grading high school English papers. I can guarantee that the owner, Eddie, still knows my preferred drink of hot chocolate. I am also the same girl who brought my daughter home in November and the following summer bought her a concert ticket at two years old to see my friend, Randy. She still thinks that I am close, personal friends with Randy Travis.

So, today, I was reminded to sing and dance a little more often. My friend was visiting yesterday and noticed that I have a disco ball in my basement. Apparently, that is a little odd. It was my daughter's first Christmas present to her dad. Of course, she had a little help picking it out. He still would rather not dance but he knew that I couldn't marry a man who won't dance so he learned. You wouldn't think sharing your new album or passing on a good internet tip is an example of prayers in action. However, I would beg to differ and suggest you check it out for yourself. It really is too much fun.

Blessings,

Cindy

Shake, shake, shake

After sharing my morning oatmeal with my dog, I was off to Zumba. I was successful in securing my position in the back row and grateful to God that I didn't know a soul. The first fifteen minutes went by before I realized that I didn't have any ID on my body. I had locked my purse in the car along with my inhaler. I tried to remember who knew that I was at Zumba and who would pick up my daughter if I didn't show up. I had told my friend at preschool where I was headed and talked to my sister just before I left so they would figure it out.

My next thought was that I talked to my grandma this morning and she would be mad if I died at Zumba. I call her faithfully every week and she asks every time if I am coming over today. I agreed to come visit next week when we have a few days off school. After arranging a day that didn't interfere with her weekly hair appointment, it was not going to go over well at all if I didn't make it.

Earlier this week, my trainer told me that I was getting stronger. At first, I thought that was good news. Then, I remembered that I pay her to tell me such things. The Zumba instructor caught me after class to tell me that I did a good job and encourage me to come back again. I can't help but wonder if I really look like I need reinforcement or if someone is calling ahead.

Today, I am thankful to still be here. I am also releived to have secured my Halloween costume. My daughter clapped her hands in delight when I tried on the Snow White costume for her. She promised to remember that I did this on her behalf. Then, she encouraged me to get the matching magic wand and fancy headband. She claims that I "need" them. I am also grateful for my friends who keep me on the straight and narrow and remind me to eat my protein. I found a new freezer meal cookbook on this week's adventure to the library so we will see if it helps our cooking ambitions.

Blessings,

Cindy

Beware of the Peacock

My blog could really be a blog about the trials and tribulations of my exercise plan. Last week, I bid goodbye to my family as I set out for Zumba. I quickly discovered one of the complications of having two gyms. I went to my usual gym but Zumba was at my new gym. Apparently, I need to include more details when I plan my weekly workout schedule.

Today, I set out for a new yoga class. Some of my friends were getting together during preschool but I stuck to my schedule. I should have realized that I might be in over my head when I saw the instructor. He had a bandana tied around his head and was ready to lead us. I held my own until we reached the full peacock position. If you want a good laugh, you should really look up a picture of it. Basically, you support your body on your forearms while your feet are pointed in the air. Of course, most instructors offer a modification. I knew I was in good company when the lady next to me started to laugh. You could also put your arms in between your legs and support yourself with your toes pointed out. Needless to say, I was very relieved when it came time for ten minutes of meditation. You are supposed to silence your mind but I couldn't help but think this would all make really good blog material.

Later this week, it is back to Zumba. So, prayers might be in order this week. I also got a note home from the teacher about helping at the Harvest Party. It read, "you are welcome and encouraged to wear a costume." I can only imagine what my darling daughter will come up with to go with Belle. I thought I was going to get off easy since she picked her Dad to escort her as the Beast.

Blessings,

Cindy

Choose Calories

Every so often, it hits you when you aren't ready. I was sitting at my kitchen table opening the mail last week. My daughter was sitting next to me making "cookies" out of play dough. In my mail, I had a copy of the most recent newsletter from Help One Love One, an organization that supports patients with CF with gift certificates for groceries. I know first hand the power of a few calories so I try to support them when my budget cooperates with me. In this particular letter, they were sharing the loss of a CF patient who had been getting some support over the past two years. He was 28 years old. Help One Love One is based in rural Minnesota and Max got care at the same clinic that I visit often.

Life expectanccy is not a really fun topic. When I was younger, I thought the average life expectancy for a patient with CF was far enough away. I noticed that the statistic is no longer on the Cystic Fibrosis Foundation website. I doubt they took it down just for me. In 2000, the average life expectancy for a patient with cystic fibrosis was 32. In 2008, the average was up to 37.4. Each year, my mom is very good about looking at my birthday as a modern day miracle. I, on the other hand, tend to hold my breath and hope we slide through another one without notice.

So, this week, I am busy trying to choose calories. My routine is back on track for the most part and I think almost no one is reading this blog so I can freely tell you what I really think. I called last week in hopes of joining an upcoming clinical trial. I was told that they are taking two patients at my clinic. I guess I shouldn't put all my hopes in the magic drug basket.

Blessings,

Cindy