You Can't Sing Without Air- Harry Styles Fanfic

45. More Than We Ever Dreamed Of

"Ready, set..... and go! Push! Push! Push!" The nurse coaches as I take a deep breath and expel all the air from my lungs into the machine testing my lung function. Her coaching makes me sound like I'm giving birth. 

"Good! Good!" She says as I finish. 

I pull the clip off my nose, coughing. I tug my oxygen cannula back onto my face, catching my breath. 

"Wow Aideen, you've really made progress!" She says as she looks at my chart.

 I can barely hold in my eagerness. 

"What's the numbers?" I blurt. She chuckles. 

"Would you like to have anyone with you when I read them?" She asks, gesturing to the door where Niall, my mum, and Harry are all waiting.

I pause.  

"No. I want to hear them first." 

"Okay." She says. "According to your charts, you were at 27% lung function when you came in. Since Trikafta, your number have gone up-" 

I hold my breath. 

"Fourteen percent." 

I swear my heart practically stops. 

Fourteen percent.

"You're currently at 41% lung function."  

"That's.... I don't know what to say!" I say. My hand flies up to my mouth in shock. I haven't been at that high of lung function in well over two years. With CF being a progressive disease, gaining lung function is almost unheard of. Once it's lost it's lost. Now, with Trikafta, I've been able to undo the inevitable. 

"That's an incredible improvement, Aideen. With Trikafta, we don't often see this high of an improvement rate with someone at your stage of lung damage. Now, it's only been three weeks, there's a chance your numbers might continue to rise. If, of course, you continue to be diligent with your treatments." 

I barely register her words. I realize after a moment that I'm crying, tears dripping softly down my face.  

"Aw, love." The nurse says, noticing my tears. She hands me a tissue. I wipe my eyes. 

"Do you want me to tell your...erm... friends they can come in now?" She asks. I nod. 

The door opens and my entourage enters. Mum, noticing my tears, comes directly over to me and takes me in her arms. 

"It's alright love, I'm sure everything will be okay." 

I shake my head, laughing through my tears. 

"No, mum, look!" I say, pointing her to my chart. 

The nurse hands it to her kindly. Harry and Niall watch expectantly. I cover my mouth again in shock. Harry comes to my side, holding my hand gently in his. 

"FOURTY-ONE PERCENT?" My mum practically shouts, dropping the chart in shock. She turns to face me. 

"Adie! This is everything we've ever dreamed of!" Her eyes well with tears. Now it's my turn to give her a hug. 

"You're shitting me, no way!" Niall says, picking up the chart and examining it himself. 

"Ayd, this is amazing!" He says finally, succumbing to the same shock as the rest of us. 

I still am at a complete loss for words. Compared to a healthy person, 41% lung capacity is a joke. To a Cystic Fibrosis patient on the brink of transplant, it's a miracle. It's far higher than my lung capacity had been in ages. The last time I was at 41% I wasn't even on oxygen.