Chronically Different

Clinic

The Next Day

Traffic was light on the way to the hospital, not many cars at 2 PM..

I walk in the hospital entrance, now beautifully decorated for Christmas. I pick up my familiar mask that I'm required to wear in the hospital when I'm out in the open, exposed to all germs. I walk the well known route to my clinic appointment, check in, and stand in the corner to wait for my name to be called.

Clinic appointments always bring on extra stress for me. For one, blowing hard into a machine for it to calculate my lung function is exhausting in itself, especially when you're coughing up blood. Two, the mental stress it brings to me, so much depends on this one number. Is it going to be low today, or did it stay stable, I already know it didn't go up any, hasn't in years. That's the thing people don't seem to understand about a chronic disease; it doesn't get better with time. And thirdly, I hate seeing whatever number the tests says my lung function percentage is at and then feeling a complete different way. For instance, I might feel absolutely terrible but my numbers stay stable so I feel like my family doesn't believe that I'm actually sick.

I quickly snap back to reality and blow as hard as I can into a machine that evokes so much stress and anxiety from me.

The next two hours drag bye as I sit and wait to see my Doctor who was able to squeeze me in. After waiting for an eternity, he finally enters. He says he's happy my lung function is stable, but it sounds like I'm trending down again. Ultimately giving me the decision: I can stay at home for Thanksgiving (aka another week) or I can be admitted tomorrow for IV antibiotics. Its funny how I hate the hospital, I hate the food, the bed, the way it makes me feel mentally. But at the same time I knew that it was time I came to receive treatment. That's the thing about trying to be an adult and make big decisions, you've got to find a way to put your health first. For normal adults, this might mean: eating out less, working out more, and having a mental health day. For me, it means deciding to push past your fears, and your already scheduled plans, and going to the hospital for two weeks. I had learned my lesson once before when just a few months ago I lost over twenty percent of my lung function.. All because when faced with the choice I chose to stay out of the hospital for as long as possible. I ended up with pneumonia, bacteria, and fungus growing in my lungs. For people with Cystic Fibrosis, something like that is hard to come back from. Luckily, my lung function was able to come back up, but I still felt like shit.. Even 6 months later. I would not make that same mistake again.. Even if my family might not understand it.

The air hit my face as I left the hospital, knowing the next time I would be there I wouldn't be able to leave this freely. I looked at all the people inside for just a moment. I silently prayed they wouldn't have to be there long. I prayed that they would get to leave. I prayed they wouldn't be my neighbors for the next two weeks.

"How did it go? Happy to see you home at least." My mom manages to get out. She had already started drinking it was 5:30 PM. I felt the sense of rage go through me.

"I have to be admitted tomorrow, possibly for three weeks this time." As soon as the words left my mouth, I saw the sigh my mom let out, her judgmental eyes gleaming at me.

"Well that sucks."

Sometimes I'm surprised when the words come out of her mouth.. "Well that sucks" is all I get. I don't even respond and head up to my room that reminds me a lot of the room Harry Potter had at the Dudley's, only it wasn't placed under the stairs. My thoughts begin again. I hate how she's an alcoholic, I hate what it has turned my once, beautiful, compassionate, best mom ever, into. I try to distract myself desperately and get on my phone. After scrolling for a bit I get so sick of it all, and throw my phone down on my bed. I text my friend group message an update. No one responds. Libby's probably busy running a meeting for her sorority, or working out. The others, probably studying. And even though I know my world doesn't revolve around them, it does hurt when they don't respond. I decide to turn my phone off and try to go to sleep.