Swing as I have been doing this blog for just over a year, I have been getting little views. Well not enough anyway considering other sites. I won't stop until I surpas Google, even though Google own this blog site. Ok, so I won't stop until I pass out Yahoo! So if you can, spread the world about the blog. If your in hospital then tell the nurses and other CF people. Actually don't come in contact with another CF. That's NOT good. Iv never met another CF person and I don't plan on it either. It sounds harsh but cross infection is huge. Paranoia? Maybe, but the only thing I have to gain by meeting another CF is an infection. I also don't understand when doctors say we can see one another if we have the same strain of MRSA or some other bug, or if your bug free, then it's ok for us to mingle. I don't so it as being ok. So no thanks. It's a pain in the arse because I wouldn't mind shaking hands with a CF or two. I don't want to sound big headed about it, but I feel we see too much negativity in CF and what I have achieved in 25 years of having it shows a positive story. Actually, let me rephrase that. What my parents have achieved and have passed onto me is a positive story.
The stories from the CF conference from parents with CF would go as follows. "my child was like yours until CF caught up with him". My parents had 2 problems with that. 1 - CF can't just catch up on you like a tiger chasing you. There are tell tale signs of CF, and it's nobodies job to keep on top of it but ourselves. And the 2nd problem was that my parents didn't want to be another "my child was like that UNTIL......" type story. I was given therapy 5 times a day, EVERYDAY. On top of that was tickling sessions whenever possible during the day. On top of that was, I was a normal child. I went out and played with my older brothers. I was out in the snow and the rain. I played football with my older brothers and their friends until 10 o clock at night outside the house. The older people played better football so it made me have to work extra hard to keep up. This forced my lungs to work harder. I remember we were playing a game of chasing and one person turned around to me and asked me to stop chasing him because I wouldn't stop chasing and he thought it was bad for his heart. Hahahaha.
I was a bit of a pain in the arse as a child. I was just talking to my mam about this today. Out of her 4 kids, I think I gave the most trouble. I used to rob everything insight. Pointless things like my brothers toys, and my mams leg shaver. I flushed them down the toilet??? They knew I was doing it but by the time they knew I had swiped the item from them, I was straight into the toilet with it swirling around the toilet bowl. I also had a stash under my bed of everything from the tv remote to clothes and jewlery. Because of my Kleptomania, my mam actually kicked me out of the house when I was 5. FIVE! I packed my bags. In the bag was a teddy. She asked me where was I going to go, I replied, DR Tempany. He was my Doctor at the time. I got to the end of the driveway before guilt set in on her. She must have thought I wasn't afraid to leave. But from thAt day on, my klepto days where over.
When we lived in Inchicore, there was the risk of getting stabbed by a serynge from one of the junkies, or falling into the horrible canal, or just beaten up from a scum bag. For trills, my friends and I would throw stones at the junkies to get a chase. To this day I have never seen another human being run as fast as that junk ball. Dust came from his feet as he turned the corner. He would have given Bolt a run for an Olympic gold. He didn't catch me thank God. I hid in a bush and heard him say "I'm not gonna hurt ya, I'm just gonna break yisser legs". Jesus!! About a mile away from the house was an orphanage. Orphan Annie (I can't remember her name) was my attraction to the place. I can't even remember what she looked like. All I knew is that she was an orphan and the orphanage was in a block of flats. One night, around 11 o clock, I was still in the orphanage. My parents worried sick. Anyway, my dad found out where we where and came to collect me. That ONE time only my mam slapped me. I was seeing birds around my head. It was nearly a knock out. I was grounded for supposedly a month. I was let out the next day. But that was certainly the end of Orphan Annie.
Troublesome little brat. But all that mischief kept me going, and running. Although I have eased down from my wild childhood,i still think she worries about me. but isn't that a mothers job?