I've been determined to write this post for a while, which is the same story with any post I write, but the problem being is that I leave it so long between posts that I end up writing a mammoth novel that holds no ones attention by the end. My last post being nearly 2 months ago, a few things have happened. The first being, that I'm not actually diabetic! Feel free to jump about and throw children in the air in celebration of me not having to constantly stab myself with insulin, cos that's how I felt. It's not all perfect - I'm sure I'm borderline, and since being told I was potentially diabetic (and scaring the shit out of me in the process, as I'm sure you'd be able to pick up from the last blog) I've been given the order to occasionally check my sugars 2 hours after my biggest meal of the day, but only once a week on random days until I go back to clinic with my taking-the-piss-so-far perfect numbers.
Fuck, that better not be a jinx.
Anyway, the first time I checked my sugars (twice a day for a week or so) every number was perfect, except from one, when I'd downed a (high in sugar) J20 and then 5 minutes later immediately checked my sugars. That's the number that freaked my dietitian out, and I hadn't explained the whole drinking juice and testing my sugars at the same time situation. So now I have to have my meal, and then for the next two hours, eat as much crap as I'd like, and then some. Which suits me as I can eat a surprising amount when I want, and obviously me being as compliant as I am, I'm currently working my way through half a large chocolate gateau from iceland (it says its 16 portions, but believe me, it'll only feed one) and I also have 5 jam donuts. Well actually 4, cos one got slightly inhaled before. Got to admit, with everything CF throws at you, eating whatever the hell you like, and having it twice, is definitely a bonus. Even if it does mean that I still can't shift myself past 42.5kg, which is starting to really defy logic sometimes.
I think I vaguely previously mentioned going to Chicago, and I got home about a week and a half ago. It was fun, we saw pretty much everything (including the blue man group, which are insane) and i probably ate enough to make a normal person put on 3 stone. Unfortunate me being me, and with the amount that I'd walked around every day, my weight from starting my precautionary pre-Chicago IVs was actually higher than when I went back on Monday. I'd lost 0.2kg, which isn't awful, but still ridiculous! Whilst over there, I took nearly 800 photos, which is actually less than I usually take, but there were times when I was too knackered to take anymore, or I'd left my camera in the apartment as the pure weight of the thing is quite heavy and carrying heaving things, especially on my shoulders, is a nightmare for my chest and makes breathing more difficult. The whole trip was so good, but after being there for 12 days, I was definitely ready for home as I missed everything. And frankly, American drivers scare the shite out of me as they all speed like maniacs, whilst texting or talking on the phone.
The flight home wasn't the smoothest - we were delayed 2 1/2 hours whilst on the plane before we left, as there was something apparently wrong with the nose of the plane. After the captain announced that they were going to refuel (a total of about 3 times...!) we finally left, and as it was an overnight flight, I wanted to sleep - we originally got on the plane at 6pm chicago time, and would arrive in Heathrow airport (london) at about 8am London time. It was so uncomfortable though, and there was an inconsiderate man in front of my mum who had his seat pushed the entire way back, and kept moving about so his seat would jerk about every 3 seconds. We stayed awake for the meal (we were starving, having not eaten since lunch) and the food wasn't too bad, but I wanted a well deserved vodka coke as I'd kept my mouth (mostly) shut during the delay, and I was really annoyed about the lack of subtitles on the movies, as there'd been a couple subbed on the flight to chicago (which was british airlines and also went off without a hitch with no delays and way better food, this flight was american airlines, go figure) so when the air hostess passed us and asked what we'd like to drink, my mum ordered my drink for me as she was closest and I couldn't hear/understand the woman properly. When my mum turned to me and passed on the question 'Do you want ice?' the air hostess was shocked, and said that they don't serve alcohol to little kids. We told her I was actually 21, and she said 'wow, I thought she was like... 12!' which took the ultimate piss! I thought getting 14 in america was bad enough, I didn't think it would actually get any lower than that. But I digress. I got my vodka coke as she finally believed I really was 21, and a total of 10 1/2 hours later, we finally got off the plane.
To find that we'd missed our connection thanks to the delay, and had to get a later one back to Newcastle. Thanks AA(!)
Oh and anyone who knows me well, might be wondering if I'd really manage to travel 4000 miles from home and get away with no injuries? The answer is no:
I badly sprained my thumb and have to wear a thumb brace for the next few weeks, as it still hurts ridiculously. I actually did this whilst getting off the first flight - from Newcastle to London, as I pulled my suitcase out of the over head, and according to the woman at minor injuries (I waited till I got home, I wasn't paying a stupid excess from my travel insurance to go to a hospital in America for a sprained thumb) I've probably pulled some ligaments or something. Ow.
I will post a picture spam of a handful of the photos I took, but I can't be arsed right now and I think this post is long enough.