Not Too Shabby

Today I had a Dr.'s appt with my new GI doc at the "adult clinic" to see what we can continue to do about some stomach and digestion complications. Good news is, there could be scar tissue from the G-tube removal a couple of years ago, but there's no way it could be significant enough to completely hold up my digestion. So now it's just continuing taking the meds and if another new medication doesn't work, then there's more testing to be done (which is unlikely because most of this is common for CF and the meds should work.)

I also had some lab work that needed to be done. I remembered the times as a kid, when my stubborn self would absolutely detest getting blood work done because of how my veins collapse whenever they try to draw blood. It wasn't only my mind refusing, but my veins were too. So when I had the lab work done today, I knew what was going to happen, and the lab nurses were a little worried when they had to keep poking since hardly any blood was coming out. However, I believe they were more worried than I was. As always, I would tell them, "that vein looks too small, try another." Today at the adult clinic they were understanding and would listen if they saw it was too small. As they continued poking though, I was glad that I hardly felt each one.After remembering the times as a kid where it would hurt too much or I became so tired of being poked, this time I felt completely fine.

At times I felt like a horse being broken in, especially as when I was a kid and refused to do a lot of things that I should have done. However, there are experiences that make us stronger. After four pokes today, they finally were able to get the lab work needed, but it honestly didn't feel bad. During the half hour I felt calm as each minute ticked. I was thinking it was only blood, only one more poke. After all, I felt lucky as I have things pretty easy. I was a little surprised to find that this lab draw wasn't bad at all. I read a quote recently that I feel fits: "Strength doesn't come from what you can do. It comes from overcoming the things you once thought you couldn't."

  

It wasn't enough

This past little while, I discovered that deciding to run when I could was not enough. I would find myself making excuses not to go, such as being too tired, too lazy, it was too hot outside, etc. I have been trying to keep up with my new treatment plan, which has been a challenge, and I wouldn't be sure which days to run or when to lift weights at the gym so that I can stay strong and run. So then I decided I needed a new plan--a new routine so I would know when and what my workout plan would be: go to the gym and lift weights for one hour one morning, run at least 2.5- 3 miles the next (or run the first morning and then weights the next), as long as I would have an hour of weights and at least 30 minutes of cardio every morning except Sunday--my day of rest :) It was set, so I began.

It's been rough. I didn't realize how out of shape I was for not having a routine. I have started using not only the weight machines, but free weights, been learning new pilates moves to get ready for my goal of building a six-pack in case I need to get my stomach scar tissue removed (I think that if my abdominals are stronger, then it will heal faster after surgery.) It is a little scary to think about because I hate surgeries and I'm not sure what's going to happen, but I want to be as prepared as possible in case it needs to be done. Then there's running...finding good routes around this college town has been a challenge itself with hardly any hills, busy traffic, and much more. But it's getting there.

It's been hard, especially the first week. I would be sore every day and craving a nap in the afternoon, but I would have more energy throughout each day. On Saturday, instead of running or lifting weights, I was planning on going up with some friends to hike the Y. When I woke up that morning, everything from that week kicked in. I felt like I got hit by a bus. I could hardly move anything...everything from my neck to my shoulders, back of my arms, biceps, my back, my abs hurt when I laughed or coughed (which even hurt my ribs), my inner thighs killed, along with my hamstrings, calves...all the way down to my ankles. Yep. For all I know I may have been hit by a bus. And what's more? I felt crazy for wanting to go on a steep hike. However, I started feeling addicted to the exercise. I knew it was going to help me, and I could wanted more. The hike was shorter than most, but it was steep. At times I felt like I was going to die, but reaching the top felt incredible.

So here I am, still sometimes detesting turning off my alarm between 6:30 and 6:45 AM, but the feeling after each workout rocks. Hopefully the next PFTS blows the Pulmonologists away (no pun intended). :)