Swimming My Life Back

The very thing I'm doing to stay healthy may kill me. CF or not, dedicating yourself to exercise is no easy task. It takes determination and a mild case of insanity. These bits of wisdom didn't occur to me until I decided to start swimming again and completed a few pitiful freestyle strokes in the pool at my mother's house. Within moments I'm gasping for breath, praying to God that I make it to the shallow end before I sink like a rock. Screw my pride, I was seriously wishing for some water wings!

I know how to swim...I'm just not very good at it. Because of that, Carly and I signed up for a swimming class this summer as a way to learn proper techniques and to spend some quality time together. When we got there I noticed a children's swimming class in the lane adjacent to us. I don't embarrass easily (it's hard to get embarrassed when when you've had doctors examine extraordinarily private places on your body for most of your life - "Easy doc, that thing is cold."), but there is nothing more ridiculous than a seeing a 30 year old man using a kickboard in one lane while squeaky little seven year olds are passing him by doing the backstroke. To add salt to an already chlorine-filled wound, my superstar wife Carly took to the water like a fish and swam circles around me within minutes of starting our lessons. After our hour was up, I left the pool with my lungs burning so badly I could have sworn there were fireballs lodged in them. Ah, the joys of getting back into shape. They say mild pain is a good thing. If that's true then I must be a freakin' masochist.

One of the reasons I was inspired to start swimming was because of a recent online article from the New York Times entitled: Patient Voices: Cystic Fibrosis. The article focused on several people living with Cystic Fibrosis and their daily grind to stay healthy. It made me proud and refocused my energy toward regaining some semblance of control over my health. Spending my days doing therapy or in the bathroom does not make me feel particularly efficient or empowered. I've vocalized my frustrations to Carly, who has reassured me that I'm the only one that feels like I'm not making the best of my situation. She wants me to focus on taking care of myself so we can be together for a long time. So that is what I'm doing. I can already tell it's helping because every time I've finished my workouts I end up coughing out a mixture of colored mucus, clearing my chest of the infection that constantly attacks my body. It's as disgusting as it sounds. Micro victories in a macro battle.

If swimming doesn't kill me, it will make me stronger. For now it hurts like hell, but that's because I'm out of shape and ain't the young buck I used to be. Please, keep your fingers crossed and, sweet Lord in heaven, think buoyant thoughts!

Peaceful Things,

Josh