Thursday Dec 8, 2005.

*** This is the first of several written "diaries" from my very first hospital admission in 2005. I had written it on the pages of a notebook, and accompanied my words with a large drawing of a girl (me?) holding her head in pain while wearing a shirt with a bird on it. Next to that, were the lyrics to Alicia Keys' "Caged Bird" (still a fave of mine to sing in the shower). Also included were a weekly chart: M, T, W, etc which was mostly crossed-off, an "I miss you Smuckers" statement (my job), and a time-schedule of my iv meds.

Despite my high embarassment at these diaries, I like looking back even now because I have grown from the petty fears I once let control me surrounding CF. I also can use this to take a look at the way I'm confronting transplant currently. Finally, I like to think that when I am through the hardest part of the transplant journey, I can point CF'ers to these words and show them that I most certainly was right up there with the most fearful of 23-year-olds, and if I can do it, they can. Enjoy. ****

It's always something now. First the car accident has me feeling sick over buying a car, now I'm on a hospital bed looking at over a week at least of medical hell without work to keep me fighting. But I have to fight. More now than I've ever imagined. I've felt nauseous with worry over this for as long as I can remember. Probably 3 weeks at its worst. I'm terrified about getting an IV. Moreso about keeping one. Theres these things called picc lines and midlines that they really want to do to me but I cant accept. I only found out about them on Tuesday. I've cried alot since then. These lines start at the bend of your arm and thread to large veins, in the case of the picc right above the heart.

Doctors are now reluctantly saying that I should be able to get away with the peripheral, although it will have to be changed at least once. That scares me too but its doable. I wont have a panic attack. I just have to think about how Andrea got one and shes a very scared person usually. And how Justin had that and worse because he had a spinal tap.

All this waiting has been a mixed blessing. My body is suffering from the stress. They didn't have a bed for me for 2 days. Now I'm here but iv-less because I went for xray and bloodwork before it. I'm still quite nervous. I need to sleep and shower with it but still protect it. I won't be unplugged for 10 days. Mom and dad found out I'll be allowed to go shopping so theyll force it. I don't want to hurt my iv at any cost. Boredom I can deal with.

This can't be real. When people talk to me I can see it in their eyes. That difference. The feeling that washes over you when you talk to a disease. Someone with cancer. The "other" or maybe its just my imagination. They really are very nice here. Part of me is afraid to stop being scared because I need to keep squeezing pity out of them so I don't get forced into a picc or midline. This will be the longest 10 days of my life.

I'm going to have lots of visitors I know. And mom and dad everyday. But honestly, as always, its the people most unimportant that I want to hear from. People that almost couldve never known I was different. That don't see me at my worst. My coworkers. I miss them even more than I thought because they symbolize normalcy.

Alina called today. It stopped me in my tracks and broke my panic ever so briefly. I want to draw on that power. I just want to get through this so I can find a new way to fight. If I can last till I move out, well, then the pressures' all mine. I dont want to come back here.