My CF story part 2

In 2005 I moved back to The Farose Islands, and after I turned 30, I started to have those pains in my lungs again. It's like a cramp, situated in the back. I had just started a new job, and I went to work with this pain, and tried to do my best. But soon I started to get worse, I got a fever and went to the doctor, who at first looked at me and didn't believe that I was sick, that I had pneumonia. Because I didn't look sick (I've never looked sick), I suppose I always try to put on my best face, and also when I get a fever, it's never that high. So the doctor performed a test on me, where he pinched my forefinger for blood, and had it examined. He took it with him, and came back after a few minutes, and he had a surprised look on his face, "you my lady are sick" he said. Yes, I thought, I am, and thank you for believing me, it was a reliefe. So I took antibiotics for about 2 weeks and stayed in bed, on sick leave from my new job, but the my colleagues were very nice, so it didn't matter. I recovered and started back at the job. I got sick in October-November 2006. Time went by and in April-May 2007, it started again. I got the cramps in my lungs, and started feeling bad. I was doing thing but felt awfull, out of breath, weighing a ton, and also throwing up. I wanted to go to the doctor, but he was on holiday, so I had to go the doctor who was on call. I remember sitting there in the waiting room with my boyfriend, and feeling awfull in my body. Like the worst hangover ever (I think that's where I decided not to get drunk ever again! (And I haven't)). The doctor precribed me antibiotics and I went home and stayed in bed. When a week had gone by, and I didn't feel better, I went to my doctor, who again did the blood test, and again I was sick. He said that he could to a x-ray, but that they often didn't show much. And moreover the x-ray unit was closed (re-building or something at the Hospital, things work like that in a small country like ours...). So it was up to me if I wanted to go or not. I considered it, while we walked out into the car, in the wind and rain (another benefit or The Faroe Islands), and almost decided against going. I imagined going home and relax, but something told me that I should go and take that x-ray, to see what's going on! And I'm glad I did. A norweigen nurse took my x-ray and we went home again. The doctor had told me to call for the results a few days later, but the next day he himself called me. He said that the lung specialist at the hospital had seen my x-ray and had discovered "something", and that he wanted me to me to come to the hospital to be admitted. I called my mother, who of course thoght the worse, but my boyfriend relaxed me, saying not to think the worse, and it's not cancer! You know, when a doctor says they found something, your mind travels there. So I went to the hosptial, where I was met by a young doctor, who asked me the routine questions, e.g. if I had lost weight lately, I said yes, but that was on purpose (I was on a diet, and have now lost those overweight kilos of before). I was admitted to a ward for heart-lung patients, I remember a nurse trying to inject a needle in the inside part of my wrist, to see what number of "sour" I had or something, and it was the most horrible thing ever. I squized my boyfriend's hand so much, and put my nails into his hand that he tought that it hurt more than what I was experiencing. They explained to me that I had a "gathering" in my lungs, that they needed to get out. I stayed in the hospital just one night for observation, my parents came to visit, and my mother looked so sad, that I felt I had to show her that I was fine. And my boyfriend was also sad and had to go home to an empty house, he said later that that's when he realized how much he loves me, because the house was so empty without me One of my friends called me and she didn't know that I was in hospital, she asked how I was doing, because I sounded so miserable lat time we talked, and she tought that I sounded better now. I asked her if she knew where I was, and she said no, I'm in hostpital I said, and she was very surprised. I explained her what had happend. I was I was put on iv and was allowed to go home. I was to return three times a day for iv injections. That went on for about 2 weeks I think. My boyfriend and me all those times together I had a bronchoscopia performed, and remember waking up from the anestetics and talking rubbish. The result showed that I had bronchostasia. I started to go to regular check-up with a really nice lung specialist, and had lot of blood tests taken.

 

While I was on iv, I had this lovely tube attached to my hand, but it didn't matter that much, because I mostly stayed at home. A lot of the time was spent in bed eating white maltesers. As I said I went to check up with this really nice specialist, Torkil á Steig, who is the son of the other specialist that had me admitted. I had a lot of blood tests taken that I can't really remember what were fore, I suppose to see how I was doing, and what bacteria I had. In the specialist office in the hospital is where I first heard the word "Cystic Fibrosis". The specialist asked me about my medical history, he mentioned that my mother had said that I always had a snotty nose, he asked if there had every been the mention of Cystic Fibrosis, I said no, never. About that time there was an article published in the national newspaper, about two sister who had CF, and who always had mucus and had gone to Denmark every 6 months for checkups at the CF ward (there is no such thing in The Faroe Islands). I asked the specialist if that could be my case but he shook his head and said no, highly unlikely. (Later when I found out what I have, I felt a bit "unimportant", why had they found out what was wrong with these girls, and not me? I had had pneumonia, sinusitis and what have you...) Before I got sick, my boyfriend and I had decided on moving to Spain (he is Spanish), so I told the lung specialist about that, and he had no problem with it, as long as I got treatment there, he didn't want me to be left high and dry as he put it. If I hadn't decided on moving, I would be going to Denmark later that year for examination. In a children's ward (because only children have CF!). So shortly before I left I had a test performed on how I was doing, a sort of scan... I remember the nurse saying that the test was nothing to worry about, that the result of the test probably might be more to worry about! Gee thanks nurse for comforting me! Well, the result wasn't as good at the lung specialist had hoped for, I had pneumonia again, but didn't feel that bad. My boyfriend and I were packing up to leave (well he did all the packing because I was sick), and he was cleaning the house we had rented, moreover we were facing problems with the landlady, with whom we didn't see eye to eye on a few issues (that's another blog altogether). She was around the house all the time, and she was putting this horrible liquid on the out door, some sort of paint, and the fumes were irritating me, and my boyfriend told her that I had pneumonia, but she didn't look quite to believe us, I didn't look sick! Well off to Spain we went at last, and there another chapter of my CF story took place.