Cystic Fibrosis (CF) is a genetic disease that affects many organs in the body, predominately the lungs, the sinuses, and the gastrointestinal and reproductive tracts. In June of 2004, I was diagnosed with this disease. I will never forget finding out about my diagnosis, and it has forever changed my life.

I have been sick all of my life. When I was only four weeks old, I had bronchialitis, and had to be hospitalized. I could not gain weight, and my parents tell me now that they feared I would not make it. But my doctor never tested me for Cystic Fibrosis. They tested me for Tuberculosis, but when I did not have it, the testing stopped there. My mother told me that the doctors had a weight goal for me to stay out of the hospital. I gained just enough weight to stay out of the hospital, so my parents thought everything was fine.

Throughout my childhood and adolescent years, I constantly had a cough. If anyone around me were sick. I would catch it. Every time I got a cold it turned into a sinus infection and bronchitis. I was twelve years old and sounded like I smoked three packs a day. My cough would get better, and I would feel well enough to go back to school, but it was never gone. My doctors told me that I had chronic bronchitis and chronic sinusitis. I finally gave in to the fact that I was always going to be sick. I got used to always having a hacking cough, and always having to blow my nose.

As I began to get older, and eventually go to high school, I became very self-conscious. People would make fun of me for coughing so much. I wished my cough would go away but it never did. I graduated high school, and began attending Stautzenberger College. I had always loved animals, and decided to become a veterinary technician. I loved my classes, and was getting closer to my degree. Then I got pneumonia. I missed a few weeks of school, but was determined to go back. I felt awful, and was not getting any better. I was trying to go to school five days a week, and work six days a week. I only had two semesters left in school, and did not want to give in to the fact that I was sick. I would often cry in the bathrooms at school and work, praying for the energy to get through the day.

Finally after a month had gone by, I went back to my doctor. I had been on every antibiotic there was, and nothing was working. I had also lost fifteen pounds in a month. and my doctor was very concerned. He felt something was not right, and ordered a chest x-ray. I got a call from his office asking that I come in to talk with the doctor. I was scared as to what he was going to tell me. He proceeded to tell me that I had a condition called bronchiectasis. I had no idea what that meant. He said that he had not seen this condition very often, and referred my to a lung specialist.

I felt worse by the day, and was growing impatient to figure out what was wrong with me. I called the lung specialist, and they gave me an appointment for two months from now. I cried and yelled, and called my dad to tell him. He told me to give him the number, and he'd call me back. My father owns his own company, and is a very good salesman, so I felt confident he could get me in sooner. I almost passed out when he called and told me I had an appointment tomorrow.

The next day my father and I went to see the specialist, and take a lung function test. The tests took what seemed like forever, and three hours later we finally saw the doctor. He listened to my lungs, and examined me without speaking. What he finally said did not make me feel any better. He said it didn't sound good, and thought I needed a bronchoscopy. This means that I would go under anesthesia, and they would basically flush out my lungs. They could take a culture from my lungs, and hopefully find out more about what was wrong. He said they would also test me for a variety of different diseases, including Cystic Fibrosis. The doctor told me that he doubted I had it but wanted to be sure. When I got a call at work a few days later, I knew it wasn't good news.

The nurse talked to me first, then she said that the doctor wanted to talk to me. He told me that I had tested positive for cystic fibrosis, but not to worry. He said it was just a name and not to freak out. That was easy for him to say. I hung up the phone feeling numb. I did not cry then, nor did I tell the people I worked with. I called my dad first and told him. I knew he would handle it better than my mother. He did not think that the doctor came across people with cystic fibrosis very often, and wanted to see someone else. He wanted to make me an appointment at the cystic fibrosis center in the Toledo Hospital.

The next call I made was to my mother who started crying. I told her not to worry, and that everything would be fine, but the truth was I was scared. I called the lung specialist and told him about my appointment. He thought it was a good idea, and that the doctor's at the Toledo Hospital should take over with my treatment.
The test that I came up positive for is called a sweat chloride test. Basically, they put what looks like two watches on each of your wrists. These arm- bands have a coil in them that is clear. They are left on for a period of time, then the coil is sent out. I remember that they were bright blue when they were taken off, and there was a pool of sweat underneath them. The question that was on my family and my mind was how accurate was this test? The doctors told me there was also a blood test, but that the sweat chloride test was very accurate. The genetic test also came back positive, and I was officially diagnosed with cystic fibrosis.

My second appointment at the CF center lasted five hours. Since cystic fibrosis affects different parts of your body, there were many different people that came to talk to my parents and I. We talked to the respiratory therapist first. She described to me the different inhalers, breathing treatments, and antibiotics I would have to take. Next I talked to the dietician who talked to me about the digestive enzymes I would have to take with everything I ate. I also talked to a social worker that talked about insurance issues and medication costs. The doctors tried to explain everything to me, but my head was spinning. They told me the average life span was thirty- five, but not to worry. Many patients were now living well into their fifties. I went home and cried.

It has almost been a year, and I am finally getting used to my routine. I have to take a special multivitamin. three different breathing treatments, an inhaler, digestive enzymes, a nasal spray, occasionally a laxative, and I also have to flush my sinuses three times a day. Sometimes I get depressed about my diagnosis, but it passes. I actually feel better now than I ever have in my life. My cough is almost non-existent, and I no longer have constant stomach and sinus pain. But in the back of my mind, I also know that I will inevitably get worse.

This is a degenerative disease, and there is nothing I can do about that. I had sinus surgery in December, and will have to several more times throughout my life. I will have to get my lungs cleaned out frequently, and I have doctor's visits several times a month. I have to take antibiotics frequently, and sometimes have to be hospitalized and put on IV antibiotics. I will have to teach my boyfriend how to do postural pounding on me to help clear out my lungs. But I am strong, and I will get through it.

I will never forget getting that call at work from the doctor. It has forever changed my life, but not necessarily for the worse. At least I know what is wrong with me now. I know what I have, and what medications can be taken to help control it. I have a wonderful boyfriend who is always there for me, and a family that loves me. They have been so supportive this past year. I know they will always help me no matter what. When I decided to change majors because I wouldn't be able to get good insurance, my parents supported me.

The social worker at the cystic fibrosis center told me to think about getting a job where there are fifty to seventy-five employees. This way I will be able to get the best insurance and be able to afford my medication once I am no longer under my parent's insurance. I don't know what I want to do yet, I just know that I want to work in a hospital. My life has had a major turning point, but I finally feel like I am on the right track. I am going back to school, and still working a few days a week. I am not working as much as I used to because I get tired easily. But I am doing the best I can. This is the first winter I have not constantly been sick, and it fells great. For once I feel good about the direction my life is heading.

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