Dear CF

(warning: some offensive language)

I hate you. I hate what you've turned my life into - waiting on you to catch up with me.
Taking time away from what I want to do, what I wish I could do.

What would I be doing? I don't really know, I've forgotten what it was that I enjoyed

.....but, I certaintly never expected being on the disabled list, especially at this age.

Growing up, I wasn't sick. I took my health for granted, like most.
I didn't know the cycle, the progression;

I didn't know that although I was healthy then, I could be sick, today.
And behold, here I am...cursing you.

It was easier to deal with you when it was "just" constant stomach aches, though that was no picnic in the park.

But I was used to it, it was familiar.

Then you snuck in and started working on my lungs, my breathing....leaving me me less able to exercise, leaving my heart and muscles weaker, leaving me slowed down even more.

And now as the days pass, I can relate more to those cf'ers I once thought I would never be.

It's never ending. It's tiring, ...it's old.

My epitaph will read: I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired

You made me quit work - to do what?
You've turned my life into a mental fight with doctors, with insurance, and with myself.

Some wonder why I can't work.

Those are the some that don't live with me, don't see me during my coughing fits, don't see my thermometer, don't see the daily maintenance, don't see me getting short of breath from normal, low key activity.

I can't help what others believe about what they think I should be able to do, I know what my limitations are, I respect them, now.

My epitaph will read: I told you I was sick

By God's grace, I've been able to deal with it fairly well.

But, it was a long road to get here.
Yet, you still nag me everyday, and now, more often - you are more relentless.

I can deal with the hospital visits (I know I'm there to feel better), it's the day-to-day that is more draining - when the tiredness, achiness and fevers return not long after.

How disheartening.
That's worse.
CF, You suck.

Who knows how long I will live. (Who knows how long anyone will live)
The fact is - I'm not afraid of you, I'm afraid for my loved ones and their fear of you.
I can live with you, I can die with you, but what about them?
Show your face!
You taunt them everyday, with every fever, with every hospital visit.

It's not fair that you rob my (our) resouces, time and energy.

"but you don't look sick" they say, when inside I feel {aged}.
They say I look good, ...when I feel like shit because I've spent the morning in coughing fits, looking in the mirror at my gaunt pale face, sad still when I remind myself that gaining weight won't be easy - I must work at it, like I work at my breathing treatments, ...sad again when I've climbed the stairs 'too fast' and am short of breath, ..and when my body aches from chronic inflammation, ...when I wonder if it's time to go back in the hospital, again.

No one can see what I go through - they can't see my lungs, my thoughts, my heart. They can't see what it does to me, on the inside. ..how I loathe what's become of me.
They can't see the depression. oh sure, I can mask all my frustrations with chemicals, but it doesn't go away. For the sake of saving face, I put on a smile. Because, dispite you, I try.

You make taking care of myself mandatory, not an option - a chore, not a luxury.
You make living tedious. You made me a slave to you.
If I quit trying, you'll take me, eventually- so, for everyone else's sake, I keep trying. Somedays more, somedays less...but I keep trying, even when I've failed, I keep trying.

But my hopes are in the future...
Some day we'll kick your ass
Some day, there will be a cure, or on a lesser scale, better treatments

Until then
CF, F*ck you !

Respectfully, Your Slave
Sally