On my way to work on the bus August 9th 6:32am, I wrote this:

“CF is not my opposition; CF has never been my opposition. I shake hands to receive its’ gifts, as I keep stride in the ‘mist’ (middle) of storm as well as its’ calm. Never think I can out-run, out-do, as if I am wiser or better than the creator of all this.”

These words swim in my head daily in my sleep and while I am awake.

I am in my fourth week of P90X. Have I mentioned that this is crazy? When I woke-up this morning the first thing I did was put my work-out clothes on, clear my space, and pop in Core Synergistics. Sheila hears me squeal “What, you have got to be kidding me, really?” This one makes me cough like crazy as well as the Plyometrics.

To mention: the green goop comes up time-to-time. I don’t know what to do about it. I just roll my eyes. And an antidote I have not figured out yet: I am supposed to cough, but not too much. When the doctor asks me, “Have I been productive” I say somewhat, my baseline. If it is too much, it is an infection – right? But, not enough means that crap is down there and settling in. So, some place in the middle is the “healthy” amount, whatever that is. Personally, I would rather never see it. I would love it to go away and to have my cells work as they are supposed to. That is my true wish. To have the green goop come up and not come back. How lovely that would be; how wonderful.

Back to my crazy routine. After completing the Core exercises – killer, I mean seriously KILLER! Sheila made me my protein smoothie. I ate my bagel, egg, and cheese sandwich, and drank my coffee. While enjoying my nourishments, I say to Sheila, “I can do my second treatment before I go to work this evening. That will be nice; I don’t have to do it after I come home.” A few minutes pass, “Wait . . . I haven’t done my first treatment yet, how can I do my second?” “Duh.” It is almost 1pm, and I was a bit behind. Sheila was like “ok…” Sheila is the best, literally the BEST partner, because one reason of many is that she is only my partner and not my parent. She never asks “Have you done your treatment or when am I going to do it, etc. The BEST!

Last 3 weeks each day has gone something like this: Chest and Back, Plyometrics, Shoulders and Arms; Yoga, Legs and Back; Kenpo, Rest or Stretch. With my two treatments a day and working my 44 plus hours a week, seems a little labor intensive – and a little ridiculous. This does not include the Ab Ripper routine after each muscle group. Sometimes I do a tiny bit of it and stare at it and say “Ouch, I am not doing that.” The “stretch/break” day actually goes with a “Stretch” DVD. I haven’t popped that one in yet.

I have amended some of these exercises because of my knees. My left knee was feeling a bit tired one day and I felt a slight amount of inflammation and heat in it. So, I pulled back, did what I could, and rested.

I admit my yoga routine did not happen last night. I had my yoga clothes on and I went to pet, Guido, trying to give him extra attention because he had better stick around a while. I don’t even turn him away when he bites me, “go ahead bite me, I can take it”. I just can’t push him away since Galileo’s passing; one of the worst days ever. Well, soon as I layed down, I was out cold. Sheila came looking for me, since it was a bit quite. “I think you should skip your yoga tonight,” she says. “You think?”

I shake hands with CF. I do not think it is my enemy, this thing I must kill, must out-do, hate, or fight against – because as I have learned years ago “One cannot live peacefully if one is not peaceful inside.” I firmly believe this. I also truly believe this is one of the main reasons why I am still alive. So many people I know, have known, view CF as their enemy. This thing that happened to them, the thing against them. I cannot have that resistance inside. Let the energy pass through; never let it become stagnant. Breathe in, breathe out. Stagnant energy equals death; movement equals life.

You may have heard me say this before, but CF is my benefactor, not my nemesis. I step up to the plate, it steps up. When it asks for help, sometimes more forcefully than other times, I accept its’ request and do what I have to do. CF is my challenge in this lifetime, has made me who I am, more than anything else. I accept its’ gifts – only after I curse the sky, land on my ass. But this time, not as hard.

I have to keep moving. In my mind I see myself bust through doors, run over water, do flips, jump up stairs, shake hands with my other self: the one that has CF and the one that doesn’t. The line of reality and imaginary evaporate; I am a cartoon in my mind. I am never to be crushed by a bolder or fall off a cliff. I am skating, flying, surfing over all that comes at me (this is where the sound and light effects come in); swish, bam, BOOM! Crazy, I know – I never said I wasn’t.