Bleeding from my lungs is a living creature or entity. I’m not sure what to call it. I just know it’s alive and looks for opportunities to take me down and make me pay for everything bad I’ve done in my life. It’s karma living inside of me waiting for payback. And payback is a real ball buster.

We went to Disneyland yesterday. I didn’t quite feel 100%. Something was off both mentally – the panic attacks of earlier this week – and physically – a possible virus. So, the Disney adventure started with me battling myself and trying to avoid a full-on anxiety attack in the Magic Kingdom, with one of my primary concerns being bleeding from exertion. Luckily, the blood didn’t happen until I walked in the house last night. Lucky me, as I’d have hated it if it had happened in public on a ride.

The blood isn’t filling the sink, as it has in the last five months, but it’s hard to tell which direction it will go. I started cipro right away. No more waiting a day to see if the doctor approves it – I awarded myself an honorary doctorate in medicine and green-lighted the antibiotic. Go for it.

Today, the blood seems to be retreating slowly. I have a father/daughter dance tonight and my daughter’s birthday party is tomorrow. So, I’m hoping I can hold out and the cipro will work this time. Here’s crossing my fingers I don’t cough up blood during a dance tonight,  which would be like a scene out of a Stephen King movie.

These are the days when I cannot express my sincere hated of cystic fibrosis with words. I lack the ability to describe the depth of my anger. And if any healthy dad comes up to me tonight crying about his life, I’ll probably have to punch him in the nose and ask him what his life would be like if he had to worry about bleeding all the time. Give someone like that CF for six months and then lets see how much they complain about what they have or don’t have in life. They’ll feel like they won a 100 million-dollar jackpot the day their six month sentence is up.

To be continued, as always.