Today has been a good day. I would say great, but I am in the hospital.

Got my PICC! People keep saying “someone has some pull around here.” I think my doctor has some pull and is gentle, kind, and is taking small steps with me.

And I got my PICC just in time. My vein collapsed, said “Good-bye you stupid fool. I told you I don’t like IVs”, and then within 5 minutes the chest xray report came through saying my PICC is a go.

I drank a gallon of water today. Crazy, right.

There is no sleeping in hospitals. People in and out all day: the nurse at least 15 times, a gaggle of people making rounds, my doctor, PT twice, housekeeping, dietary, my friend Linda, Sheila, Edward, respiratory at least 3 times. I think that is enough.

I am tired.

I did yoga in my room that is all to myself with windows surrounding me. I have a shower which I found out that only 2-3 rooms on the floor have their own shower. Otherwise, there is a communal shower. Nothing is good communal.

I ran and walked on the treadmill for a total of 35 minutes. Something I learned, enlightened me into the PICC world: when you sweat and there is tape on you, taped that is sealed to your skin, it could itch underneath. I am not so smart.

Then, my doctor and I came up with a plan. My apices in my lungs have some bronchiectasis; there is visual change on the chest x-ray. It is probably main reason why I have loss of volume.

Good thing, it is my apices and not my lower lung. Shorter pathway to get out!

I will do my nebs in the morning, then physical therapy will come in and do manual therapy for a half hour. Exercise mid-afternoon and then my vest treatment in the evening, while drugs, drugs, and more drugs infuse.

Conclusion: I made the right choice by coming in. My doctor specifically said to me, “I do not want you to think that this is a downward spiral. You are healthy, but we want you to be as healthy as you were.”

I may be having someone come out to our home to do manual therapy a couple times a week for a month; all depends on the insurance of course. Nevertheless, Sheila is going to help me with my stubborn apices. My vest jacket just doesn’t reach that high, since your apices resemble mountain tops that reach right up to your collarbones.

I just found out from my lovely nurse that when CF patients get their PICC line they are usually scheduled directly in interventional radiology. Apparently bedside is not the norm for CF patients. She said if I ever have to come in again, that is probably where I will be. I think my doctor is becoming, if not already, my little angle. He sensed, knew my hesitation about all of this. I am thankful.

I am also stubborn, determined, and THIS situation will not happen again; and me being in a hospital – I have no words. Do not mess with the Messa. I mean it. That is not a joke.