Locked up

We arrived at St. Mike's in time for me to grab whatever it is they're disguising as coffee at Second Cup, before heading to clinic. Who the heck likes that crap? I didn't even like the first cup.

I was weighed first. I desperately tried to think of something heavy - like an elephant, but apparently it was shrunken by Dr. What's-his-face from 'Honey I Shrunk The Kids' cause I'm down another 5 pounds. 

I've gone from simply skinny to moderately malnourished.

Did I fool any of you into thinking that I haven't been malnourished for years?

Unfortunately, as explained to me by the CF team in Halifax, it's a vicious cycle.

Crusty lungs + craptastic appetite = crustafiably craptastic numbers on the scale.

My lung function has also plummeted. So you see? The Halifax team is brilliant...and I need to eat a boat load of cheeseburgers and milkshakes.

I've been on many different antibiotics the last few months and they only seem to buy me a bit of time before I sink back into an energy zapping, torturous breathing vortex.

Good times!

So it's time to hit 'em hard. Send the liquid army in to attack and stomp all over the infection's face.

I'm all tucked into my hospital room. The cool part is that it's the same room I had in July. Kinda like being at home...well, except not. Great view of the church next door and the evening drug deals. At the moment my windows are wide open and I am having the incredible audio experience of squealing siren after siren. Ahhh the magic...

Mom has gone home to look after the G-man and to explain to him where his mama is. I'm sure he'll understand.

I've been busy getting poked and prodded:

Pretty awkward spot for an IV

They wanted to put it in my hand, but I refused as I need my hands free to type the ridiculousness that emanates from my half working (at the moment) brain. I hope you all appreciate it.