Cystic Fibrosis. Yeah, I can articulate the basics but when it comes down to the science of it all, I know just enough to be dangerous...very dangerous. Lucky for me I have a husband who is really good at taking it all in, digesting it, and then spitting it back to me in laymen's terms which helps immensly when it comes to calming me down at the first sniffle of an oncoming cold or the whistling wheeze heard after a too long hug. It's ironic, really, that my husband the NON multitasker, the NON stress basket of the family, Mr. SoLaidBackYou'dBetterCheckMeForAPulse posesses such a skill. Meanwhile I'm the one schlepping into Clinic with the checklist of questions written out as a laundry list of whatifs and ohbytheways a mile and a half long.
When you boil CF down to the nitty gritty, the bare bones...it's a disease of the cells. There's a broken one in there. Outta commission. Out of Service. On the fritz. And man o man, does that jack things up! Add to it those 1500+ genetic mutations of which you could get two - the whammies - and you'll give yourself a migraine for sure. You see, it's just two genes - the gift or curse you get from your parents, on which everything rides. Sick or not sick, enzymes or no enzymes, lung transplant or not..the lottery that are those two genes can mean the difference bewteen CF or NO CF.
My simple, unscientific mind - the one that sorts underwear by color and pants from fat to skinny has no patience for this disease. We can put a man on the moon. We can click enter and send a ten page document to Europe in less than a hearbeat. We can sew a finger, a toe, a leg or an arm back on. But we can't fix this? Go on now, get in there, dig out that faulty gene and pop in a good one. One that WORKS for Godsake. Geesh! This is why I'm not a scientist, I guess. Screw The Scientific Method. Just get to the answer already. I mean Come On...
What's in My Head
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