down in the boondocks

It's kinda hard to type with this monitor thing on my middle finger.

I'm in the ICU getting desentitized to Fortaz. I totally balked at the idea of coming into the ICU, but it's been great - as great as hospitals can be anyway. I mean, I've gotten my meds on time, my RTs were quite knowledgable about CF, and I slept all night - at least until my nurse woke to tell me by BP was 77 over I dunno what. I think it was a fluke. 77! Makes me wonder WTF happens when I sleep at home! Well and I've got all these damn cords all over. Still, I'll take this over the Oncology floor where I was before n.e. day.

So 10-14 more days of IVs is coming my way, but I'll deal. I want to feel good for our vacation which is rapidly apporaching.

That's about all u have to say. I want to go home!

this is the end, beautiful friend, the end

Today has been a day of endings.

I finished up my last dose of IV Tobra about twenty minutes ago. This is the only time I have ever been on just one IV med and man, is that cake! I am also on inhaled colistin, so it's not like I am on only one med, but still, one infusion BID = sa-weet! So that's done.

That's not all as pie in the sky as I just made it sound, since this was an experiment to see if it would help me before I need to go in and get desensitized to meropenum. er, I guess it's Imipenum. Either way, I haven't heard much good about either med, so I am not really looking forward to that and honestly, I only feel maybe 70% better. I got a stomach virus in the middle of this course of meds that left me with a 102 fever, vomiting, and all together miserable. I feel that it set me a back a bit. Once the fever edged over 100, my heart started beating really hard and my breathing became very labored. I was acutely aware of this, much as I remember I was with H1N1. There is just a point where it seems that my body really begins to struggle with fevers. Maybe everyone's does, I just don't have a whole lot of experience with fevers.

I was thinking today as I was infusing my last med about where I am with my health. In 2007, I weighed 103 lbs and had an FEV1 of 50%. I did no treatments up until that point. Well, no, I guess I had my Vest, because I know I got that soon after my daughter was born. I remember because my boobs were full of milk and it hurt to Vest at first. But anyway, a year later, that's where I was. I feel it's entirely possible, had I not changed that road I was on, that I may not even be here today. Who knows where my health might have been and then to have suffered through the Swine Flu epidemic? yipes. I feel certain it was the grace of god and lungs that cooperated that that didn't hurt my body worse than it did, and I know I lost some lung function over that.

Anyway, I guess that's neither here nor there because I did get compliant and I am still here and I do have a baseline that now hovers around 70 and that is terrific. So I have to remind myself when I reeeaaaalllllyyyy don't want to do IV set #2, complete with some hospital time, that that's just how you have to play this game. If i want to be here for a while longer, I gotta play these cards right.

I really want to be here to see my kids grow up and have kids of their own. I was reading a book to my daughter tonight about a kid that got an ugly knitted sweater from his grandma and I felt deeply how much I want to share that part of life with my kids. It's a realy hard pill to swallow that I might not. Sometimes I can get kind of flippant and even obstinate about it when my family spouts off uber positive thoughts about how possible it is for me to live for a long time more. I feel they are deluding themselves and need to realize the stats are not in my favor. But the truth is, the deep dark truth, is I really would like to be around for a while longer. Facing your own mortality is not easy. I know I am still far enough removed from dying that it solidly remains a "what if" idea. Many people I know are already in end-stage lung disease and I am sure their outlook and wisdom would greatly differ from my own.

I'd come up from the basement earlier tonight when I realized I left the phone down stairs. I asked my son to bring it up to me.
"I'm too tired to come back down" I told him.
"From your thing?" he asked, pointing to my chest. I said yes, that sometimes what's meant to make us better can wear us down a bit first. He called back up the stairs that he hoped they would find a cure soon. This is my son. Somehow squashing my parents' optimism about a cure doesn't seem as unkind as doing it to my son. So I called back, "I don't know that there will ever be a cure, but hopefully they can find something to help me live a long time." By then though he was already immersed back into his Xbox game and I was feeling a little blue.

I digress.

Another ending came as I finished up teaching my 3rd semester in the world of higher learning. I had a failing student complain about me and my "unfair" grading policies to the Dean of my department. She called and asked me if I would be willing to let him take his final exam again. I really debated this. It seemed if I said no, the likelihood of my rehire was small, being an adjunct low on the totem pole. At the same time, I have been trying really hard to be more of a stick-to-my-guns kind of person. What it finally boiled down to was that though I thought that this kid was acting like a spoiled brat, he was entirely capable of doing the work. So to be punitive and fail him based on bureaucratic rules would really be a bit asinine and would probably keep a bright (but slightly annoying) kid from doing something positive with his life. So I let him retake it. It kind of botched up my evening since I had to go in just for that, but he did well and passed the class. So he's done, as am I, for the summer.

I really enjoy teaching at this level. It's pretty unlikely that I will ever go back to full time school teaching, but if I ever do, I am totally holding out to at least get a position in high school. Or even night school, GED. I mean, my dream was to be like "Dead Poet's Society" or something, but it seems I always get thrown in with the lower echelon of studetns, be it skill level or SES or what have you. No matter why, they've sort of become "my people" and I feel I do well by them. So I hope I can continue at this for a while longer.

Finally, in the end of days, I sent my entire master's thesis to my director today. That consisted of 63 pages of narrative and 15 pages of literary context. It took me almost a year to finish it, partly because that's how long it took me, and partly because I had no deadlines and I am working with a very over worked faculty memeber who wasn't always quick on returning my emails and drafts. I am still waiting for her reply, so I may have to edit and revise a bit more, but the bulk of the work is really truly done. Thank goodness! It's such a weight lifted off of me. I will actually get this degree. For a while there it seemed as if it might not happen.

With all that, I leave you with pictures. I just got a new computer and I have a built in camera (so yay! Skype!). I'm only about 10 years behind the rest of the world with my technology. I was just playing with the camera this morning and then again after I finished infusing my last dose of the Tobra.

Enjoy my kewpie looking pictures. (I'd rather be Kewpie looking than Ewok, thank you very much!)

now i've got the needle and I can breathe but I can't bleed

I had to have my port flushed last week. I asked the NP at my clinic to set up the flush as a flush/learning appt so that I can flush from now on at home. I'm not particulary scared of needles, I have poked myself before for an array of reasons, the two main were hormone injections when I was trying to have my daughter and the time back when 7% hts wasn't premixed yet and I dropped the huge gauged mixing syringe and it went straight into my leg right up to the hilt. I didn't fall over and faint from that, so I think I got the port thing.

Anyway, as is the case with my experience in the medical field, the nurses look at me like I'm CRAZY when I say I will be doing my flushes at home. Apparently they have never had anyone do that. I don't get it, but oh well. I assure them I know plenty of people who do this, there are even videos online.

I also only have an hour until I have to pick my daughter up at school.

So you know you wait forever on pharmacy (not to mention how long intake took - THIS is why I want to do this at home, I don't have time to be waiting around on other people's schedules every month).

Finally the nurse comes in with the port dressing chage kit thing and the saline ahd heplock and we both put on masks and gloves and she has me do the cleaning with the sponge thing. I like that tool, it reminds me of the things that hold the soap in them with a sponge at the end so you can clean the dishes. I digress - I realized that with the mask on, I can no longer see the port. I can see it just fine without that mask, but the mask skews my view and on top of that, when I look down I end up fogging up my glasses.

We decide to take the kit into the bathroom so I can use the mirror. She hands me the needle, which is bigger and scarier than I expect (but I'm tough, yo, I take it in stride) and says, "find the sweet spot and pop it in." Well, I used lidocaine before I came in and can't feel anything but the hardness of the port, so I aim for the middle and poke. The nurse hooks up the saline, but the port won't flush. The nurse fiddles around with it a bit (um, ouch!) and then decides we have to start over. Brand new kit and everything (which totally irks me as a waste, but whatever). She says, "I am just not comfortable with you doing this at home and since you are on a time crunch, I will do it for you now and you can come back next month and we will try the teaching again."

Really, that annoys me because I just missed the spot (I thought), it wasn't all that hard. Anyway, she comes back with the new kit, pops that bad boy in and guess what? It won't flush! Wasn't just me, sucka! Anyway though, I have to leave. So we decided I will get my daughter from school and then come back so that she can try again.

When I get back, I sit in a chair this time. She pops the needle in and the port flushes right away, so our guess is the first time might have been a positional thing from me looking down or standing up or whatever. I do, reluctantly, agree to come back next month for another walk through, but I really feel better knowing I hadn't totally effed up the port flush.

So, nothing is ever easy here in medical land and now my port is kind of sore, not intolerably, but the vest is uncomfortable again.

I do have a cold though, so there is some silver lining that if I have to go on IVs I am all set. Not that I want IVs, mind you. or not that having a cold doesn't suck. But you know...look at the bright side. ha.

it's outrageous and insane these crazy prices in PORT of Spain

Home from an uneventful port surgery. Uneventful as in everything went as planned, no snafus.

I had my surgery at the Allied Physician surgery center in town of which my step mom is a share owner and practices at frequently. She had recommended both the surgeon and anesthesiologist to me and was present in scrubs during my surgery. While I was in the waiting room before she arrived I had been watching one of the nurses, or nurses aides maybe, an older, heavy set lady who seemed none to happy to be there. She had called two patients back before me without much of smile or personality at all, she even seemed a little annoyed about it. I'd thought to myself that I hoped she wasn't my nurse. My step mom arrived shortly after and the I was called back by, lo and behold, grump lady. Except suddenly she wasn't grumpy anymore - quite chipper and soooo happy to see me. I told my step mom she was going to have to come with me to all my medical stuff. lol.

Anyway. From there I had a vanc drip hooked up and I opted to go ahead and get the general. I was told it was my choice, i could do the conscious sedation or twilight or whatever it was called or just go under and I decided I wanted to be aware of nothing. So I got a beautiful combo of versed and fentanyl (how pleasant that was!) and then I was out.

I woke very confused and was told that I kept asking where my daughter was and was afraid I had left her home alone.

I got a pediatric sized "smart port" which can be used for draws and contrast as well as meds, slightly above my right breast.

and that was all they wrote.

I have to say that post op fentanyl wasn't cutting it for me, which is wierd. they offered me demerol, but I declined that opting for more fent. After 150mg of fent and 10mg of percocet I felt pretty good. Tolerance, maybe? I dunno.

Now I am slightly tender. It hurts a bit to bend over or raise my arm up but just chilling out (or typing this) is OK. The worst is my throat. My throat is on fire and despite all the narcotics, I just can't shake it. I think throat pain is one of the worst types of pain and i have little tolerance for it. But...whatcha gonna do?

So, all in all things went well and despite my uncertainty in the wee hours of last night's morning I feel glad that i did this. The port is quite small and I think it will be pretty unnoticable. I look forward to the ease it should give me with meds. I think it will help my compliance with getting IVs when IVs are the best thing. At least that was my intention.

So, I present to you my ported up chest.

bring it to me, bring your sweet lovin,' bring it on home to me

I was de-picced yesterday morning. This was the easiet (of the three) round of IVs I have had yet, and I was actually a little hesitant to have it pulled. But yet, that little undying denial bird just wouldn't let me request four more days. I do feel better, that isn't the issue. But the thought of getting sick again soon, of needing IVs in the near future (which would mean thinking about a port because I am NOT into the PICC-line deal) I mean, that was almost - almost - enough for me to say, hey! let's do another four days just for the fun of it! anyway, PICC is gone, shower taken, feeling better.

In fact, I am feeling enough better that I treadmilled Monday and today and actually ran at a decent clip (as much as I could, which isn't much at all) and there was no coughing (and thus no pants-peeing). so sweet. My energy level was almost back to normal.

Here was today:
7 - up, kids up, lunched packed
8 - vest, nebs, treadmill
10 - bagel with daughter
post office, fabric store
12 - lunch and playing and computer
1 - finished 1 out of 3 Roman blinds I am working on for the kitchen
2-5 sewed up a cute little skirt with some fabric I have had for a few months. Turned out great!
5 - cooked dinner, ate
6 - bathed kids, did homework with kids, cleaned kitchen
7 - vest nebs
8 - kids to bed
9 - me time, computer, movie? rum

so...not that anyone needed the run down, but I feel quite productive.

I was going to write about transplant, as that has been muddling through my head a lot lately, but I think that that will take this post in a direction I am no longer in the mood to entertain.

Just joined Netflix. Found a movie on there that I have had on my Amazon wish list for like 7 years. I thought it would never come to the U.S. That's right - FORIEGN FILMS. I love them. The first question my husband asks me when I ask him to watch a movie is, "Does it have subtitles?" But secretly, I think he likes them.

oh mom, I wonder when I'll be waking

Things have been...meh. OK.

I am on IVs, tobra and aztreonam. What I enjoy is that each infuses over only a half an hour and the tobra is every 12hrs, the other every 8, so I get to sleep and I am not hooked up for an ungodly amount of time (like November's IVs of Levoquin which infused over an hour and a half and zosyn which was at an exhasuting every 6 hours). SO that has been good, makes it not seem too bad. Though I have not bathed in four days now and I look a bit slimey.

I did talk to my family and they have been helpful. My mom cooked a bunch of dinners for me so I don't have to worry about cooking this week. and my dad, well...he's convinced if I just accept god into my life things will be better. I know he means well, I also know he has no clue what I think about God, so we'll just leave it at that.

Still, people want to call me a lot to see how I am. I want to be grateful for their caring, I want to be, but when the phone rings I am loathe to answer. Because you know, people get tired of you saying you're not feeling well. So I just end up lying and saying I feel good even if I don't. Just this morning my mom asked and I said yes, I feel better (which in this case is true) and she said "well that makes me smile." and I know as a mom what she means, you worry when your child doesn't feel well. I do understand. But still, I couldn't help but snarking, "as long as it makes you feel better." I know I can be a shit sometimes.

Emotions have still been wacky, though I think even some of that is resolving.

I do think I feel better. My FEV1 was at almost an all time low of 52, and I still feel a little SOB which I worry is permanent damage from being sick for 2 months, but a lot less is making it's way up from the depths of my lungs, so that is good.

I am teaching a technical writing class this semester and so I am working on putting together a syllabus while still waiting to hear about my proposal for my master's thesis...so things are keeping me occupied, which is what I need.

Not much more to say, I guess.

temptation eyes

My husband allowed me to loll around in bed until 4 o'clock. Seriously. I read, dozed, watched "17 Again" (cried in that movie, why? Because being sick and laying in bed is nice, but a bit depressing). Today I was legitimately lazy.

I am still exahusted though, having been up at 3 and 4 for unrelated items and then at 5 and 6 for meds and again 7:30 to flush lines at 8:30 when all the kids got up...and no sleep 'til (Brooklyn) midnight again tonight. Friday can't come quick enough. I've eaten so much Halloween candy my gums and tongue are raw, but i had this epiphany today. Time to get off my ass and start getting active again. I've been sick for a month, but it is time to move on. I think my attitude will make a big difference in things, so....hopefully I sleep well tonight and can be bright eyed and bushy tailed for tomorrow.


even make-up isn't helping with the old hag look


sick eyes

baby, roll with the punches - even if the end is not in sight

The good:

My husband got up and did my 5 am infusion for me. He says he will do it the rest of the time. This means I have to get up just once, at 6 to disconnect and infuse the second med and then can doze until my alarm at 7. What a difference not getting up made - I still woke up when he did it, but I didn't have to move an inch. It made me feel loved.

The bad:

I am still a little SOB and my energy level is pretty low and so I feel I am getting behind, especially with my school work. This is my last class before I write my master's thesis, so I really want to be done and have it go easily. I am feelinga bit stressed.


The ugly:

I seem to have caught a cold/virus on top of everything else. My throat is on fire, very very red. Pretty doubtful it is bacterial with the meds I am on sucking every inch of bacteria out of my system (just ask my colon), so it must be viral. Please body, fight back!

So, still on a teeter totter here, but I keep hopeful. There must be an end in sight? right? please!

go back jack and do it again

edited 10-28-09 - 9:22pm whilst awaiting infusion

I have the time to address some of the topics that came up from the hubsand post.

But first, I shall toot my own horn. This morning I: infused two meds, vested, nebulized, fed aand changed a baby, dressed a toddler in a fairy costume (and got her to brush her hair), went to the grocery store with both children, put awat groceries and started laundry. woot.

No one better call me lazy. I do think I feel better though. I am still a bit SOB, but my energy (minus my lack of sleep, which will hit soon, I'm sure) seems a bit higher. Maybe it is mental, maybe it is just the need to get things accomplished, maybe it is the abx...who knows.

On to matrimony:

I showed my husband all the comments yesterday(I think there are like 17 of them! so cool!) and asked him to read them. His gracious reply was, "I don't feel like getting on the computer right now." humph. Seriously though, your comments brought a few issues to light for me.

1)The lack of interest, whether it be from fear or ignorance or what have you, makes me feel unloved and unimportant. I can't seem to get him to get that, but I need to recognize it and I need him to recognize it too.

2) Compassion and understanding are not the same. I have long thought my husband lacked compassion. Chalk it up to his upbringing. That is not the same as not understainding. I can expect him to educate himself and to try to understand the dymanics of CF, but I can't expect him to truly be able to put himself on my shoes. Right now he is failing at both a bit, but we can work on the one, the other not so much.

3) My husband takes care of me in a physical sense. He got up at 5 to help with my first infusion, he changes the oil in my car, he does laundry if I ask, takes care of the house (outside and mr-fix-it stuff, mainly)....emotionally, he is not as strong. He doesn't know what to do when I cry, doesn't know how to handle when I try to explain my expectations for him emotionally, and honestly, has no idea how to handle the emotional (or physical) demands of CF.

4) My husband DOES think I complain a lot. But the thing is, he and I have different definitions of complaining. I think complaining is sending your soup back because it doesn't have enough cheese on it, or whining about weather and things you have no control over. I don't think complaining is saying, "I have so much to do tomorrow, I have to do a and b and c and by d and f for ghij and k." So that ne we might be at a standstill...

5) It is Ok to be tired and to take time for myself to do what I need to do with CF. With or without a husband, I will have CF, and for that my health has to be first. I want to be here for my kids and my husband and family, and I can only do that by taking care of me, even if I have to do it alone.

6) Another comment came in today while I was having my PICC fixed (see below) with reagrds to my husband's diabetes. I do take the time to inform myself on diabetes, to a point. I read a book about it when we first met and he started insulin (he is type 1 but was misdiagnosed as type II in the Navy). I share any new info I learn about it (though it usually comes from CFRDers, still, diabetes, diabetes), I make his lab appointments and doc appointments - so yeah, I am involved. I have not joined a diabetes support group or website or anything like we cystics have, but I know more about diabetes than I think he knows about CF. Part of this is just because we are not created the same. I was brought up reading and asking questions, he was not. I have to learn eveyrthing I can about a new thing, while he is content with just knowing what he needs to know or what "authorites" tell him. I don't think one way is necesarily better than the other and certainly I waited years to allow myself to learn details about CF, my own disease! but it is a different way of coping, and as with the aforementioned physical/emotional divide, this is another way we are soooo different.


BAH. I have to go back to infusion. something is wrong with this PICC. I can ~feel~ it in my body, if that sounds wierd, I know, but there is pressure in my chest and my heart keeps beating really hard. so much for easy.

PICC fixed. I hope.

tying off the dinosaur

So, a PICC in my left arm, as handy as it would be, is a fail. 4 attempts before I folded:



Right arm a go, on the first try:



Post PICC calm:



Left arm, eight hours later:



Apparently I am very senstive to PICCs and have unfriendly veins. Super.

and, zosyn is every 4 (*see below) hours. lovely. Dare I say, besides my aching arms that I think I feel better today?

oops, I lied. After rereading a comment, I realized my typo. The zosyn is every 6 hours. not 4. Just a PICCed brain speaking, I guess

doctor docgtor gimme the news I got a bad case of lovin' you

So I got into the Fort Wayne clinic, but not until December. They could get me in earlier, but their clinic is one Wednesdays, and I am babysitting for an infant Monday, Wed, and Thurs, so that kinda botches things up. I figured if I tell her mom now about December that gives her plenty of time to find someone else that day.

The coordinator told me they only currently follow 12 adults in the clinic. This is both good and bad as far as I am concerned. Good in that there is not an overwhelming amount of people clamoring to be seen, but bad in that they only have clinic once a month and the doc is a hostpital internist (or something like that) and so he is accessible, but not always because he if often on call at the hospital. We discussed that 90% of the time I know what I need and won't require being seen, besides routine visits, but just as well, if I am sick and NEED to be seen, will that happen? It sounds like yes, they make amends for that. I am not going to burn my bridges here in town, so I set my appointment for now as simply a second opinion.

Meanwhile, on the H1N1 front. I saw a new GP. I am really pissed with my clinic right now, though I know inevitabley I will need to see them. I just wanted someone to listen to my chest, check my sats, that kind of thing. The GP thought all sounded clear and my sats were 97, so while I don't know what my PFTS are (I suspect they have fallen considerably, to be honest, things sounded OK. I got a chest xray also. I suggested prednisone and the GP agreed, though she wanted to wait and see what the xray showed (which I'm sure will show what it always does, mild restriction, most damamge to upper lobes)...so I figure if the GP doesn't get the report today I can call the clinic and they will surely rx me the steroids. I feel inflammed, if one can feel such a thing.

But being SOB is a really new thing for me, I mean last night I had to stop at the library between flights of stairs to catch my breath and I sound like a freakin locomotive coming, huffing and puffing, so all is not well. I think IVS are inevitable - something I already knew, was even ready to do...but don't want to.

so c'est la vie cystique.

love love me do, you know I love you

I know, I know, I have been a blogger terrible. But we moved, and I have this killer class this semester, and I did an art show that had me crocheting until my fingerrs were raw, and I've just been busy.

So I finally get a breath tonight. I have a midterm paper due tomorrow that if I read it one more time I might puke, so I decided to play internet.
I have ben getting all my ducks aligned for my master's thesis which I will be starting to write in earnest in December. I have decided to use Cf as part of the dealio. I don't know why, some sort of masochistic impulse, I think. But I am doing a memoir, basically, and I mean, really, what kind of memoir does a CFer write that leaves out the Cf part (the kind I would have written five years ago, maybe). I am a little nervous and a little excited about it. I am excited to have a creative focus, I tend to lose sight of things without cemented goals, so this will keep me busy.

In health news, I had a bone density scan today and I vist an allergist next week and I think I am going to do a prophylactic round of IVs soon since I have met my deductible for the year. I really don't want to, but I can't hlep but think if it holds things off another year or two like it did the last time, then I am in good shape. We'll see. Ivs and this class might be more than I can handle.

My boy has been having a hard time in school this year and I am close to taking out a few 4th grade teachers. I have been in contact with the principal and I am working on getting him a 504 - so you know, they can stop taking away his 15 minutes of recess and making him write lines instead (who on earth thinks this is a good idea or even an adequate punishment - did these people study ANY of the same education sources I did? and has anyone even heard of Alfie Kohn???) SO that has taken up a lot of my mental capacity each day. Rue being a mom.

So anyway, hello CF friends, and whatever other random people read this blog - I know you're out there, I see you make return visits, but who are you??? Reveal yourselves.

I love you all!

she's like a rainbow

We are in the midst of moving. boo. I don't mind unpaking - that is kinda fun, but packing and hauling heavy shit around - yuk.

I had clinic today. Mostly I just want to record what happened for my own records. So, according to them I have lost 11 lbs - yeah! according to me it is 14 - either way I am definitely down a pant size, in fact my pants have a big pooch in the belly of empty fabric - yea for success. I would still be OK if I lost 10 more lbs, but I won't complain if I can lost about 7 more.

My PFTS were down to 69 (74 at last visit, I think) and I was sooo congested and rattley I had not really noticed until I tried to do PFTS. So the gal (a different PT than usual) had me do an albuterol treatment, something I have never done at clinic (serioulsy) and I was back to 74. So I guess that is OK, but I sounded pretty bad and could barley make it to the end or take that last deep breath in.

I asked for a bone density test, cholesterol. and all my vitamin panels (my D has been low for like a year) - look at me being proactive.

I also requested to go on IVs at some point before the year is over since I have met my deductible and my insurance is paying all my bills now. I want a good clean out, especially since - though my labs two two weeks ago again showed susceptibility to cipro - we seem to be wavering on the availability of orals. So, I am guesing end of OCtober, early November we'll do them unless I get sick before that.

Anyway, that is about the gist of it. Nothing too exciting. I will take some house pics when we get settled - we're going from not quite 1000 sq feet to nealry 3000 so I am pretty excited, but busy busy busy!

wakin' up to an alarm stickin' needles in your arm

If today weren't the dogz shit, I dunno whut was.

I called the clinic for an abx. Even after treatments (vest, Hypsersal, colistin, advair and albuterol) I am a gnarly rattly mess. My chest hurts, I feel like I can't breathe and no matter what I cannot get stuff to come up. yum. So, my great idea was I would call the clinic, get come cipro and maybe some pred to hold me over until I go in on the 20th. Cipro always works well and I have not taken it in close to a year. Well LO AND FUCKING BEHOLD, according to my last sputum (May) I am resistant to cipro AND Levaquin. terfuckinrific. Actually my NP said the levaquin came back as intermediate or something - I have never seen that on a lab before, but whatever. So I am going on the lev until I go in on the 20th. Or until my new labs come back and say anything different (going to hack one up for that tomorrow). We are moving during the next few weeks, and I don't want a PICC for that, so we figured unless I get a lot worse, even if I end up needing IVs, hopefully the Lev and Colistin can hold that off until after I move.

This sucks ass. I mean, I knew it would happen, especially as I have totally overused those two abx in the last few years in order to avoid IVS, but what a bummer. Plus my chest hurts, as it did last time I got sick, so maybe a new Cf era is beginning - pain and needles.

I am going to yoga. Hope I can breathe in there.

pisser.