I've been having some difficulties trying to do short walks lately, so it was only natural that I come back and collapse in bed for over an hour. My body has been screaming at me. I push it too far and demand too much; I'm scared it might "de-friend" (un-friend?) me.
When I woke, Brad was at the park with Griffin, so I decided to tackle dinner. Again, my breathing was getting in the way of my outstanding culinary abilities, so I threw on the O2. When Brad and Griffin got back they had a friend with them. Phineas is a little white dog whom Griffin has declared is his new BFF. Phineas sniffed around for a bit, ate some of the G-man's food, tried to climb up on the stove, then left with his mom.
Then came the time when everyone meets up at the park with their dogs. I should have known better, after our walk earlier and my non-existing energy. Shame on me, right?
But, I wanted to go. I love going to the park with the G-man. I love watching all the dogs and petting them. I love interacting with the owners. I love the sense of community.
Being at the park, watching the dogs, is a type of therapy. It's peaceful, serene and makes me happy. It's been proven that owning a pet reduces stress levels and makes you a happier person, therefore my recommendation is to run out and get yourself one of these:
I knew as soon as I started walking that things weren't going to end up well. But, as I'm stubborn (thanks Nanny), I do not give up. We made it all the way there, walking about as fast as someone with 3 dozen corns on their feet, but I had to stop several feet away from the group. As they are so sweet, they came to us.
I managed to pet several of the dogs, from a classy squatting position, but was unable to speak very much due to my laboured breathing. Things went from bad to ridiculous. I stood up from "the squat" and gazed up at Brad, trying to communicate via my eyeballs.
He knew there was no way I was making it home on my own. I climbed on his back, while 2 of our new friends grabbed Griffin and the O2 tank.
Suddenly, we are the sideshow freaks of the day!
I will not lie - I was afraid. Afraid that I was getting really sick. I've been through the can't breathe, fingers and lips turning blue, please-put-me-out-of-my-misery-now stuff before...it's not something I want to repeat. I'd much rather go to New York City and meet Trump (does that shock you?) or go back to 'The Hulk' at Islands of Adventure:
|Best ride everrrr!|
I felt much better this morning, which was great because I was worried about physio today. Yaaa...turns out I had reason to be worried. It was not my best performance; as in - there were no standing ovations today. I managed to go 5 minutes on the treadmill before that was put to a halt as my O2 dipped to 85-87% (I need to be above 90%). I then attempted the bike, but the physiotherapist quickly shut that down as well due to my breathing. If there was a fast breathing competition today I would have had it in the bag. I can sense your jealousy; it's embarrassing, get a hold of yourselves.
Needless to say, physio was cut short and I placed a call to the CF clinic. Unfortunately, there is no way around it. I have an infection. Such crusty timing as Mom, Dad and Shannon are coming tomorrow. I'm been given an oral antibiotic, but if the infection is still as bad by Tuesday morning, I'll be heading in to clinic.
The silver lining is this monster:
|Horse pill anyone?|
After we got back from physio we had to take the G-man out, so I waited in the park for Brad to run upstairs and grab the furry guy. To my surprise and entertainment, this is how they came out:
|Griffin stealing my thunder|
Excited for my company tomorrow and excited for the boys to see their dad - Brad's going back to NS for 2 weeks. I can't wait to crack the whip on my new support workers!! Be afraid guys...be very afraid.