Old Fart

Old Fart is the name I teasingly and affectionately call my 83 yo Dad, since he turned 70. He's in amazingly good health, completely self sufficient, living independently and kickin' strong. I believe I have some of his good, strong, longevity genes lurking in me that work in my favor along side my not so good CF genes. All my Grandparents lived well into their late 80s and early 90s and my great Aunt lived to be 102!

I've always regarded the term 'Old Fart' to describe old men only.
But lately, I just may have to redefine my thinking.

I don't know when it started . . .
I don't know when it happened . . .
But I feel I've definitely turned that imaginary corner and officially feel I'm a member of the Old Fart Club!



Besides living all the Maxine-isms, here's a list that leads me to believe I've been initiated:

1. I rarely go out at night anymore and I hate to drive in the dark. Something about the headlights in my eyes just doesn't set well with me anymore.

2. Speaking of eyes, I can't see without my glasses. At all. I don't even try. I don't enjoy seeing the world through a blurry mess of color.

3. I belong to AARP and love the discounts they give me on everyday stuff. I read their magazines and web site, scanning for 'exciting' offers. And the other day while shopping in Kohls, the 20 something cashier automatically gave me a senior citizen discount. Do I really look THAT old?

4. I use coupons at the grocery store and use reusable, cloth grocery bags.

5. I recycle, but yet I've always done that. I firmly believe in preserving and restoring Mother Earth.

6. I look forward to the mailman coming everyday. Maybe he'll bring me something good besides bills. Or maybe not. I still look forward to chatting with him.

7. I no longer want a household filled with 'things' I've made a concious effort to clear out every drawer, closet, and cranny of anything I haven't used in the last year. A side benefit I hadn't counted on, it helped clear me mentally as well, knowing I rid my life of crap I don't need or want.

8. I don't care that my gravestone won't read, "Jodi, may she RIP. She had the cleanest house on the block" Pleeease, the dust bunnies will be there tomorrow waiting for me. This wasn't always the case, I'm so much more lax about cleaning now.

9. I don't want gifts, I'd rather make memories.

10. I'm pretty sure I suffer from A.A.A.D.D. - Age Activated Attention Deficit Disorder - I can't seem to stay focused on any one task before i switch gears and start another. Pretty soon I have 20 things going at once, get overwhelmed and ditch them all.

11. My mind has selectively eliminated facts that used to float around my head that I no longer need. See #7 - this applies to my brain too.

12. My one gray eyebrow hair has turned into about 6 in just a couple months. They're breeding.

13. My face is becoming my Mothers, wrinkles, turkey neck and all. And I am so cool with that! (I so terribly miss my MOM )

14. I've s-l-o-w-e-d way down. I know some is CF related, BUT I can gauge by what is happening to Terry too, he's also an Old Fart one year older than me. My mind still thinks I'm 18, but my body knows better.

15. I've got kids pushing 30! Where does the time go!?!

16. Medically, I don't bounce any more. This last year has been a glaring and painful reminder of that fact.

And lastly, these 2 may be a little TMI, but oh well, it's all part of it.

17. Gravity is not kind. My (_!_) has a whole new relationship with the back of my knees. My (.) (.) stare at my belly button all day long now.

18. And lastly, my monthly friend since I was 10 finally said sayanara 2 years ago. See ya, I won't miss you! YEAH!

So there you go!
I'm sure there are many more, my mind just can't think of them right now! I'm done dripping sarcasm.
Anyone else wanna join my Old Fart Club?

Even Steven

We both open our mouths,
And make a noise,
That neither one of us enjoys.

I cough,
You snore,
We're even.

I complain,
You complain,
We're even.

Even Steven.

That is all.

Our Anniversary was August 15th

16 years? Has it really been that long?

We met in 1991, in a most unusual way.

I was 35 and had been a struggling single Mom for almost 5 years, working, raising my 2 kids and finally felt at peace being alone. I was once again having fun, being single, spending time with friends and my kids. He was 36, also single for 5 years and raising his son. I didn't expect it or went out looking for it necessarily.

My single girlfriend and I would read the "Datemaker" personal ads in the throw away Pennysaver. We laughed at their phony and puffed up descriptions of themselves. Surely these desperate people could not possibly be the real deal, they seemed too perfect and beyond.

We thought it would be a hoot to place our own ads just to see what kind of response we would get. We placed and boy did we ever get responses. The calls were made to a safe answering machine mailbox where we could access phone messages and decide for ourselves if we wanted to respond or not. I got over 100 messages in 3 days!!!

Apparently, there was a demand for a 30 something, single mom who liked to camp, snow ski and ride motorcycles. And yeah, some were creepy stinkers - click, hang up. Like one creep who asked me on the message if I would join him at a NUDIST CAMP that weekend! Um, let's see, that would be a BIG NO - click, erase! Others seemed nice enough of the few whose calls I did return. They were decent and fine men, but eh, not for me.

One message, from a nervous, single Dad initially caught my attention. But playing phone tag stalled things. FINALLY, I tried to call again, a real person on the phone. His name was Terry. We talked many times in that week, realizing we had tons in common and finally met one evening in March after my son's baseball game.

We clicked, and away we went. Our kids were 10, 10, and 11 and got along great.
Christmas morning 1991, while the kids watched me unwrap a ring, Terry asked me to marry him!

On August 15, 1992, we stood in front of my living room window, below a balloon arch, our kids standing by our sides and 60 of our closest friends and family in attendance. It was the hottest day of the year. We said our vows, ran upstairs, changed into shorts and swimming suits and proceeded to have a big BBQ swim reception in the backyard. Perfect!

We fell in love and that's all that mattered - nothing else.
Yes, it's been 16 wonderful years, and worth every second.
Thanks Pennysaver and Terry!

Love you, T.

Dr Seuss

This was originally posted on August 8th 2007, on my other CF blog/forum where I don't post anymore.

Awww . . . one of my favorite children's authors, Dr Seuss. The thought of Dr. Seuss books brings a big smile to my face, and comforting thoughts of happiness from my childhood. I've re-experienced all that happiness again as I read these treasured books to my children and now again as I read them to my Grandson.

One of my favorites is One fish, two fish, red fish, blue fish. Oddly though, this particular book reminds me of my feelings of my CF - always feeling like a fish out of water.

I've always been considered 'so called mild' if there is such a thing, until these past 7 years. In the past, I tried to fit in the local support groups, education days and clinic social interactions but I felt out of place. I was usually the oldest and dealt mostly with parents of CF kids. Any other adults I knew got sicker and passed on.

Of course the parents wanted to know what I was 'doing' to stay so healthy. In reality, I had all the same regular medical routines that their kids were doing. I would feel guilty that their children were sick all the time and I was living basically a normal life. It actually made me feel worse to attend functions, seeing the very ill children. As much as the parents saw hope in me because of my age, I knew I was never as sick as their children and that we were in totally different spectrums of CF. I felt disconnected to the CF community, so I quit going to gatherings. Cross contamination continues to keep me away.

On the other hand, I didn't quite fit in the healthy, normal world either!!! A lot of acquaintances don't even know I have CF, which I feel is on a 'need to know' basis of who I tell or not. For those that do know, I continually minimize situations. I rarely talk about what I'm going through. When asked I hedge and hide trying to carry on my past of normal living. I'm certainly not one to whine and complain about my aches and pains. I even hide things from my very supportive husband because I sometimes feel like a basket full of problems.

My point is,  for me it feels very weird and foreign here.
Here meaning this site and this blog.

I have opened the lid of my box just by coming here, spilling for all to see. I feel the need for support and understanding from those in the know. I want to learn the latest and greatest from those who live it. And I believe I've found it.

I'm in the fishbowl, swimming with all the rest of you who call this forum home. Think I'll stay and float awhile.


Favorite Dr. Suess Quote:

"Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind."
                                                                                                                 – Dr. Seuss

CF is selfish

This was originally posted on August 7th 2007, on my other CF blog/forum where I don't post anymore.

*Jumping up on my soapbox, talking sternly & loudly and frustrated*

CF is selfish . . . because it thrives on medical routine.
That same routine consumes me from my normal non CF life.
And yet ironically, by faithfully doing same routine, it gives me more life in return.

By 9:00 am this morning I had already given myself 2 shots, 2 different IV's, took a handful of pills, 3 breathing treatments accompanied by Mr. Vest, and 10 minutes of Miss Acapella. Then repeat, repeat, repeat over the course of a day, every day. I switch to auto pilot and breathe, vibrate, dose, and poke. It gets tiresome, it gets old.

There are times I want to be rebellious, chuck it all and live one full day without one single medical device, drug or thought of CF. I would be heaven to have one CF-less day. I do remember having those days many moons ago before dx.

CF is selfish . . . because it takes over every room in my house.
I would love to have my closet space back. Boxes of home health products, drugs, vitamins & supplements, device instruction manuals and boxes. My fridge overflows with meds, waiting to be used. My kitchen cabinets and drawers house diabetes supplies, nebulizers both clean and dirty waiting to be cleaned and sterilized.

My computer desk shares space with my nebulizer, vest, acapella, and various odds and ends I use for treatments.

My bedroom, surprisingly, remains a CF free zone. Other than hearing my coughs every night.

CF is selfish . . . (and greedy) because it drains us financially.
It craves expensive drugs, equipment, doctor appts, procedures, home care, and outrageous costly hospitalizations. I don't even want to think about how much it has cleaned mine, my parents and my insurance pockets in 51 years.

But mostly,
CF is selfish . . . because it steals my time.
Time, precious time, I could be spending with my loved ones.
Time I could be working a real job again being productive and fruitful.
Time my mind dwells on my CF and could be better spent thinking of other things.
Time to physically being active, really active, like running, or skiing again.

Yes, CF is selfish, indeed.
Whew, got that off my chest, again for the umpteenth time.

*Quietly steps back down off my soapbox.*

Fungus balls are not my friends

My sinuses have been a nightmare for a year now. Plugged, dripping and constantly feel like I have a cold. I went to the ENT late last year for a surgery eval, he said they are open, surgery is not necessary, not yet. Well, this spring and summer along with wonderful allergies finally tipped me over the edge.

I knew there was no way I wanted to go on our upcoming trip feeling like this. I was coughing non stop from post nasal drip and blowing all kinds of nastiness from my little nose. I went to clinic for a new ENT referral. Instead I got slapped into the hospital, right then and there. Sinus CT and visual exams revealed I had 'fungus balls' growing in my sinuses. Ewwwwwwww, the visual picture in my mind of what a fungus ball looks like, is not pretty! The only way for them to escape is sinus surgery.



So the plan was to load me up full of ABX to prepare both my lungs and to rid some of the sinus infection, inpatient, with surgery to follow in 5 days. That was quick! It felt weird being hospitalized, just waiting for surgery, but I understood the reasoning.

Surgery was 7-30-08 at 1:00 pm, which went just fine. I was surprised that I only needed pain meds once, that evening. My biggest problems and discomfort followed within the next 3 days.

The surgeon used a gel/glue substance instead of 100 yards of gauze to 'pack' the sinuses after surgery. It supposedly cuts the bleeding and promotes healing. Well, I have to tell you, that as that gel, dissolved and melted, it went right down my throat. It caused me three sleepless nights, I mean NO SLEEP, because it drained in chunks. I couldn't breathe out my nose, because it's packed, and my mouth breathing became unbearable with severe cotton mouth from the gel. It finally cleared enough after 3 days that I could squeak out a little air from my nose, giving me some relief and much needed sleep. The docs also told me not to blow my nose for a week, which was torture.

But now, alittle over 3 weeks out, I'm feeling much better. I can actually feel air going way up into places that have been clogged for years.

I guess I've been very fortunate to have dodged the sinus bullet this long. I had severe allergies as a kid, and 5 sinus surgeries in my teen years pre-CF DX. And then, like magic as I entered my 20s the sinus problems disappeared. Like clockwork, the sinus problems reappeared as I turned 50.

I have my own theories, thinking with me, that hormones play a big part. The first time were the puberty years and now the menopausal years. Hmmmmmm, a connection perhaps? I've mentioned it to my Doc, but hey, there are not very many CF cases like me in their 50s to compare to. So who knows?

I just hope that this sinus surgery will be the last for awhile. I sure wouldn't want it to create a flurry of subsequent surgeries like before.

In the meantime, I'm enjoying just to breathe again.

Where do I begin?

I finally decided to start this journal, rambling about exciting life, boring life, past life experiences, my life with CF and everything else in between.

I consider my life a journey, not knowing when or where it will take me. I enjoy what I can along the way, savouring the good parts and dealing with the not so good to the best of my ability. I take a day at a time but always plan for the future with goals in mind.