It's prime cold season at the Watson/Jacques household. I'm finally at the tail end of my cold (hopefully) while Isaiah has started sniffling yesterday and is drinking liters of Cold Be Gone tea in an attempt to prevent it from become more. His colds never seem to last as long as mine and involve fewer naps so I'm not as sympathetic as I should be.
It was fairly good time to get an infection for me (as much as that's possible) because I had my CF clinic last Wednesday and they were able to test my lung function (down slightly) and listen to my lungs (clear). The doctor wasn't overly concerned but put me on a 10 day course of antibiotics just to play it safe. Sometimes I think I'm solely responsible for the antibiotic resistance problem.
The dietitian made a plan to try and fix my wonky sugars but wanted more numbers so I've been intensely recording everything I eat with my sugars for the past week. It'll help her try to recognize patterns even if I can't see them. Shockingly, I was quite high after I eating a Cadbury cream egg...perhaps the feedback will be to eat less pure sugar. Now that my weight is the highest it's ever been, I no longer have the "I have to gain weight" reason to eat all the candy. It's quite refreshing not to have to worry about my diet but it does mean fewer cookies.
I had a CT scan last week and the doctor said the early report showed no new nodules and shrinking in the one spot that had been on my lungs. I'll get the full report at my hematology appointment in May but everything looks great right now!
That stupid CT scan was so terrible. It was supposed to be done with the dye contrast which is usually not a problem. It becomes a problem when no one can get a IV into my arm so it can't be injected. Usually before an IV (when I know it's coming) I'll try to hydrate as much as possible to make my veins pop a bit and the process go smoother. However, with this scan I wasn't suppose to eat or drink for 4 hours before and seeing as it was at 830am, that meant no liquids for me that morning.
My veins were not happy. The nurses were not happy. The doctor they called in for backup with his ultrasound machine was not happy. Combined they tried 14 times to get an IV in. 14! Not just 14 regular stabs either. Most of them were the ones where they miss, dig around for a bit, think they get it, try to flush it, and nope. It was terrible. They kept asking me how the nurses got them in back in Dec when I was in emerg for Poopmas. I suggested maybe getting an emerg nurse to help but apparently they were all busy.
The doctor suggested he could put in a central line in my neck but that seemed like massive overkill for a CT scan. After all that, they did the scan without dye which meant not as much will show on the report. I was worried I would have to go back in a few weeks for a repeat but my CF doctor didn't think it would be necessary. I really hope she's right. It was slightly traumatic. I came out of the room all bandaged and bruised and yelled at the waiting Isaiah that they stabbed me 14 times. He just shrugged and said "Seems about right." No. Not the reaction I wanted. He's become immune to my "they stabbed me many times" stories. People with good veins just don't understand.
Now I just need to get over the end of this cold because the Transplant Trot is in less than a week and I really need to jog outside a few more times before it happens. 5 km jog (trot?)! Eeek!