It had been five months since potent combinations of IV and oral antibiotics coursed through my veins -- my body beginning to feel more like my own again and I was beginning to recognize the person I saw in the mirror. My mind was running at full speed again. Each day my mind shed a little of its doubt and mistrust of its own body -- unassumingly instilling the belief within me that I was invincible.
But I am not invincible, and Cystic Fibrosis is ever-present. I'd be lying if I said I hadn't been avoiding the signs of an exacerbation, desperate to give my body the chance to show me -- show CF, that I was strong and unbreakable.
How quickly I forgot the feeling of powerful poisons coursing through my body. For three weeks my body has been inundated with powerful IV infusions, oral antibiotics, and extra treatments. Its crippling presence evident in every aching joint and fatigued step. Every morning I can feel the sunken-ness of my own eyes deepening as I force myself to fall into my life's usual expected momentum. My body feels heavy and struggles to keep pace with my mind. I am reminded that my body is not my own. I am reminded that beneath the surface the fight against CF threatens to break me -- trading a beating from antibiotics for the mere hope of getting one more day, one more breath.
This isn't something new I've experienced, but this time it does seem different. As CF and its truth steadily chip away at my being, I can't help but reflect over these past several years and the extended and frequent courses of powerful antibiotics. Is this how I've always felt? Has my body always felt this beaten during such courses? I think back to the past when for sixth months straight my body was inundated with different powerful drugs in hopes that something would combat the life-stealing force of CF. I remember those days being difficult but it is as if their honest paralyzing sting has been replaced or freed from my memory.
It's amazing how quickly the mind chooses to release and replace those excruciating past experiences with unwavering hope. Of course, those difficult moments live deep within us always, but we move on from them -- choosing not to live in our brokenness but in the beautiful hope of the present and future. We live for those moments that the body proves its strength and mends the brokenness of that which comes in the wake of living with the realities CF, or whatever difficulty we each may face. I have no doubt that this trying course of antibiotics will soon be finished and these difficult moments too, will be overcome by the unbreakable hope that lives deep within.