You wanna go???

Here we go again. 

Seriously? Silly body. The chunkers are our friends. 

Let me back up...

Wednesday, July 23

CF clinic. I get weighed and whoa! I'm officially the heaviest I've ever weighed in my ENTIRE life. 126.6lbs

That's insane. I spent so many years fighting to gain weight. Fighting for an appetite. 

Now? I'm huge (In a really cool way) and can't get enough Bic Macs. Thanks Ronald. 

Then Erin, one of the nurses, brought in the spirometer. 

Looks kinda like this...

So I blew and I blew and I blew. I get all excited and can't wait to see the results. I like to win, in case you didn't know, and I want to beat my score from last time. 

After I blew so hard my guts were lying on the floor, I excitedly asked Erin, "Ok, how'd I do????"

"-----" came the response. 

This was my face:

Prett Hawt, no?

I dropped 10%. Ummmm, 'scuse me? There has to be a mistake. 

So I blew again. 

Same result. 

Impossible. What the hell is going on??

I was sent for X-rays. 

There are markings on my lungs. Not pneumonia. Doesn't look like infection. 

What could it be??

Remember that gross and scary word that I hate?

Hint: starts with an "R".

Doc upped my prednisone to 50mg (I was on 7.5) and prescribed an antibiotic. 

Thursday, July 24

I leave work early. We are headed to PEI. It's a big weekend! My bday, brad's dad, Ted's bday and Jake has a ball tournament. Jake is extremely talented btw. I was so excited to be able to watch the entire tournament. 

We're driving and the phone rings. 

It's my favorite nurse ever, Fran. Except the conversation wasn't my favorite ever.  

Turns out that after they spoke with the Toronto transplant team, it was decided that the 50mg of pred and the antibiotic just wasn't enough. 

I needed a blast of a heavy duty steroid because...

Based on my drop in lung function, my X-ray, my shortness of breath with activity as of late (oops did I forget to mention that?), my bronch in June showing grade 1 rejection - which I wasn't told, and the fact that two other individuals who attended the games were sick - this is likely that gross and scary word

Ew, right?

I have to admit something here. I argued. With Fran. About treatment. 

I said things like, "But it's my birthday. We have a big weekend planned jake has a ball tournament. Do you understand that it's my birthday?"

Yaaaaaa, who can say "juvenile"?

Once I screwed my head on straight, I realized that I really really really like my chunkers and I was a gigantic idiot. 

We turned around and I was dropped off. I kept Griff Griff and Jagger for company and they took Crosby. 

Two things happened that night that I need to mention. 

1. I saw a rainbow - obviously a good sign that rejection has messed with the wrong girl. 

2. I wanted to buy a scratch ticket for good luck. I purchased popcorn (yes, I make very healthy choices) and asked for the ticket. He asked me for ID. It was in the car. I asked him how old he thought I was. He said - 17. 

Hahahahahahahahha. Yup. I am 17. 

When I came back in with my ID he was tres surprised and gave me this explanation:

"We are trained to look for wrinkles. I looked. You don't have any."

Bless his sweet little freaking heart. 

Friday, July 25

I'm pretty sure you were all thinking this yesterday...

I woke, walked my boys and headed to the hospital with my awesome friend Kass. Love her. And honestly I can thank Brad. He called her up and asked her to keep an eye on me. He was worried. 

She picked me up a birthday coffee - ya baby - and we checked into the luxurious rapid assessment unit. 

She kept me company during my first run of "don't mess with me" steroids. 

Please don't judge. I obviously didn't give a crap that I resembled an animal waking up in the wild. But in all honesty, I didn't clean up that much more for the rest of the day. Oops. 

Afterward, I grabbed my boys and hit the road. We headed to mom and dad's. I spent the day with them and even cleaned out the car. 

Then we headed to town and I bought myself some sexy new kicks:

Then we went for Chinese. Turns out so did a bunch of my family. 

Surprise!!! 

How awesome is that??? Mom and Dad are the best. Way to cheer me up. Thanks everyone for being there. It truly was awesome and meant so so much to me. 

The cake and ice cream weren't bad either. Annnnnd chocolate sauce. 

Anyway, it is now July 26th. I am back in the rapid assessment unit, hooked up to the super heavy duty monster steroid and, I believe, winning this battle. 

Hell yes I do!!

GOLD 🏆🏆🏆🏆🏆🏆🏆🏆🏆🏆🏆

This is nutz!!!!!

19 months ago I could barely breathe to save my life. Literally. 

My body battled my crusty lungs every single second of every day. 

I would not even attempt walking across a crosswalk unless I had over 15 seconds on the timer. (Let's not forget that woman who was pissed at me for taking so long to cross with my oxygen tank.)

Saturday, I stood at the podium after my 100 metre race and a medal was placed around my neck. 

She's GoLd!!!!

I won two additional medals Saturday, for a grand total of: 

OMG! Unbelievable. This is all because of my donor. 

I'm supposed to be dead right now. My life was over. I was dying; my body deteriorating and my lungs completely falling apart. 

Now, I'm running and jumping and swinging rackets. 

Miraculous. That's what this is. 

I'm alive and I'm really and truly living. This is what organ donation has done for me. 

Here's the Canadian Transplant Games breakdown:

Photo by Pamela Hamilton

Marie-Eve owning table tennis.

Marie-Eve & Danny

Marie-Eve's Silver!!! 🏆

Linda, a fellow Nova Scotia organ grinder, and I watching Marie-Eve 

Sarah, from Transplantland, and I

The bathroom signage - cause it's hilarious

Gramps (Carman) ready for his 5k

Take off!

Crossing the finish line!

Trevor - also a Nova Scotia organ grinder

Recovery

Trevor's gold 🏆

Gramps' Silver!!!  🏆

What was supposed to be our relay team - some freaking awesome people & all with new chunkers

Opening ceremonies

Linda

Post-3k road race

My brother Jason & his son, Logan

Jake & Logan

Taylor & Brad playing soccer

Jake

Luke

Logan & Andrew

Our lacrosse fans

Trevor, myself & our trainer

My 100m sprint gold!!! 🏆

Closing night Gala

Leaving campus - trying not to bawl my face off

Unbelievable week. Crazy cool and amazing. I miss all my lung buddies already. 

Thank you donor!

Dig Deep

3,2,1..GO. 

A blur of colours, a thunder of cheers and a cloud of dust emerges from a herd of sneakers. 

Past the supporters, cheering hard, screaming. Knowing you are laying it all on the line and you must do this. No backing out now - it's time to rise up and attack this challenge. 

Ear buds in, music pumping. Want to sing, but know that you need your energy for the cardio. 

Up the hill. Legs are good. You're feeling pretty stable. 

Women take off ahead of you. You see it, don't like it, but don't have whatever they have. 

Eye one runner. Actually two. One in blue - she's ahead of you. One in yellow - she's on your tail. 

Pump hard to keep up with blue and keep yellow in the rear view. 

Second loop. Jake screams "Come on Jess, you can do it! Go!!!!" 

Pick it up - for Jake. For Lukas and Andrew. And Brad. All watching, cheering. Wondering if you can do it. Only knowing the crusty lungs. Not sure what the chunkers are capable of. 

Heading down the road now. Blue is trucking away in front. Yellow has passed. 

No!

Yellow can not be your leader. Yellow has never been your favorite colour. 

You dig down and push. You find what you need to in order to sprint ahead. 

It works. You pass. You want to cry. 

But you don't. 

You're a beast.  Beasts don't cry. They are beasts and do beastly things. 

You maintain a walk/jog. Step it up a bit where needed. Ensure yellow is not too close. 

You've got her now. She's back a bit. She likes to sneak her way up. 

Objects in mirror are as close as they appear. 

You grab a water from the water station. You throw it to your lips in hopes that some will trickle down your throat. 

Perhaps a drop. 

Then you chuck it. 

Blue is still right there. Doing what blue does. 

Yellow is behind. Always right behind. 

You are in shade now. Trees bring some relief from the 30 degree heat. 

Around the lake. Down a hill. Throwing yourself. Allowing gravity to escort your body down the hill. 

Just don't fall. 

Concentrate. 

Don't fall. 

Trees are backing off. Another loop has announced itself. 

There!

There's the finish. You see some onlookers. 

You edge closer; always ensuring that yellow is minding yellow's business. 

Jake, Luke, Andrew, Brad, Carman, Marie-Eve, ect. All are waiting.  

As you approach the last turn the boys and Brad are there. 

"You Can Do It! Go hard!"

The timer is inching it's way up. It has not yet hit 24 minutes. 

You can't let it hit 24 minutes. 

You push. You find every ounce of strength, guts and determination and you plow through. 

You beat 24 minutes. 

You beat yellow. 

You beat 24 minutes. 

The world is yours. 

Before you take the world, you collapse. You can't breathe. 

Brad pours water over your neck to cool you down. And then you remember that you have new chunkers.  

You CAN breathe. 

You breathe like a beast. 

Medal presentation. 

The boys are certain that you placed, but you assure them that you didn't and that they shouldn't expect it. 

You are absolutely certain that you didn't medal. 

Bronze.

Your name rings through. Loud and clear. 

You placed. You medaled. You won bronze. 

You did it. 

You feel tears. You are so shocked. 

You medaled. 

You are no longer breathing with crusties. You are no longer struggling for air. You are no longer relying on oxygen. 

You can breathe AND you just won bronze in a 3km road race. 

Chunkers. You've done well. 

2014 Canadian Tranplant Games

I can't believe I didn't pre-blog about this! 

I am at the games. Competing and stuff. With some of my lung buddies.

This is ammmaaaaazing!

I drove to Moncton on Monday, after saying goodbye to all boys - human and canine. 

I'm a big girl, so I almost killed myself by dragging my 13 ton suitcase down our stairs and to the car. All by myself. Cause I'm a big girl. 

Side note - I'm a horrible packer. It makes me anxious. I procrastinate. I sink to the floor and stare at the open, empty suitcase and contemplate life. 

After chucking my entire life into a few bags, I felt a bit prepared for the week. To be honest, I felt like a teenager going to camp. OMG!!!! A whole week. A whole week of friends, new friends, residence, food, games and lots of other crap. Hopefully, a medal. 

However, if I'm being honest, I don't expect to bring home a medal. This stuff is hard. There are some hard cores here. 

But, again with the whole honesty thing, I WANT to bring home a medal. So badly. So freaking badly. 

Let's face it - I'll never compete in a regular Olympics type of crazy. This is my shot. 

Monday was registration and a welcome dinner. It was hotter than hell in there. 

Correction. It's hotter than hell in my residence. I seriously feel like this would be what hell would feel like. It's muggy hands all over you and it's humid breath in your face. Then, it would laugh at you. And you cry as there's no escaping it. 

Wait. Let me back up. Let me explain. Night time here is hotter than my hair after three weeks in the ICU. 

I feel like I'm burning to death. To death. 

There is a fan. Marie-Eve, one of my awesome lung buddies from Transplantland, is my roomie. But we have separate rooms in a residence apartment. 

There is one fan. I took it last night. She has it tonight. 

Last night was horrible. But at least I had a fan. I woke up likely every 15 minutes. The windows are open in an attempt to stay alive, and you hear everything. This city is sooo loud. It's unnecessary really. 

Today Carman (my Gramps) was in a cycle timed trial and Marie-Eve and Keith played table tennis. Marie-Eve won silver and Gramps won Silver!!!! 

Trevor, one of the Nova Scotia organ grinders took home Gold in cycling!!! Intensity!! 

So no pressure. 3k road race. 

No pressure or anything. I just have to drag my ass across the finish line ahead of everyone else and at the worst, only behind two people. 

Crazy. Ness. 

Bedtime. So I can wake with everyone else and eat freak fast with some pretty unbelievable individuals. 

Lawn Summer Nights

Who doesn't want to chuck a ball in attempts to take out someone else's ball and stuff??

Lawn Summer Nights was started in Vancouver. 

All because of Eva Markvoort. An amazing woman who made it through one double-lung surgery, only to battle chronic rejection. She went on the list for another set of chunkers, but they didn't come...

She was unbelievable; very inspirational. My dad and I would read her blog together. There were plenty of posts that had water cascading down my face, and some that even left my strong papa fighting emotion. 

She gave me a lot of hope. She inspired me. I wanted to colour my hair bright flaming red like hers. She did it post-transplant to celebrate and it just happened to be her favorite colour. It also happens to be mine.

She was so honest and raw in her posts. You could feel the emotion. You laughed. You cried. And, if you were me, you bawled your face off. 

I looked up to her. She made me feel like I could someday be as cool as her. Yes, I pretend that I'm the coolest person alive, but the truth is - she was. 

Eva died on March 27, 2010 - she was only 25. She posted a video blog announcing that she was dying and had only days to live. That was one of the hardest moments of my life. 

No, I didn't "know" her. I'd never met her. 

But, it didn't matter. That video had over 150000 hits in 24 hours. My bet is that every single person who viewed that video felt a kick to the stomach. 

The world was a better place with her in it. 

Her goal was to leave a legacy and she sure did. Lawn Summer Nigts is just one of the many things that her existence has made possible. 

Lawn Summer Nights was started in 2009. Eva participated in the first one. Soon after, she developed rejection. 

(Remember - rejection is that big scary word that I hate.)

Lawn Summer Nights is in Halifax for the first time this year. 

What is it?

Lawn Bowling! Or, some may know it as bocce ball. 

They have one more team slot open. $400/team of 4.  

Go here to check it out: http://lawnsummernights.com/HAL/

I'll be there opening night - July 3rd. Register. If you're interested and can't make it, then hopefully it's back next year. If you're there - come see me. I'd love to chat. 

If I learned anything from Eva, it was to love life and everyone around you. I learned a lot more, but that came through loud and clear. 

So, grab a ball and go love everyone. 

That 3 letter word

I woke this morning feeling a full on hate for my alarm. At first I was confused, it's Saturday, isn't it? Why is my alarm screaming? Is this a joke?

Alas, it was not. It was cruel, cruel reality.  

I crawl in the shower and feel better. I dress. Style what's left of my hair. 

And then...

It hits me. I yell to Brad for the bucket. The pain. The discomfort. My head feeling like it's going to explode through my skull. 

I grab my heating pad and climb into bed. And stay there for the next few hours. 

I'm woken by a phone call. Otherwise, I'd likely still be there. 

I make the executive decision to gather the important things (pillow, heating pad, phone for work emails/calls) and float downstairs in a daze - cause maybe I'll feel more alive in a different room.

I managed to slam myself onto the couch. Which is where I am now. I'm still on the couch. Good thing it's comfortable. 

My head is spinning. But I've got two furry boys to hang with; one being a bit more cuddly than the other. 

At one point I did take them outside. In my housecoat. I'm cool like that. 

The sun was so hard on my head. The curtains are drawn and I'm watching the bachelorette. Go Andi. Like I said, I'm cool like that. 

The flu has circled this house. It's hit almost everyone inside. 

I really didn't want a turn.  

Airport

Ready to go home. Well, ready and not ready. I love Toronto and always feel a bit sad when I have to leave. 

I was hoping this trip would bring clarity. 

Well, it has. But at the same time, made me more confused. 

Anyway, I had a great time. Between being poked and hanging out with radiation, I also managed to eat some delish food and see some really great friends. 

Miss them already. 

Why can't everyone just move to NS? I don't see the problem here. 

Excited to see the boys and Brad. Excited to sleep in my own bed; although the hotel bed (but especially the pillows) were pretty sweet. 

I just shoved five pillows under my clothes and walked out. No biggie. 

Cab drivers could learn to smile - that's fo sho. 

Ok, gots to go. Someone has to fly this plane.