August | 2014 | With Every Breath: My Life with Cystic Fibrosis

I am so angry. You wanna know why? I’ll tell you why!

I was rereading my past blogs because I wanted to get an idea for a creative writing assignment. Also, I like to laugh at my witty humor. When I got to the infamous “Life Ain’t Always What You Think It Outta Be” post, in which I talk about having to withdraw from Stetson and how sad it was, etc., I was kind of happy because now I’m at UCF and I’m taking awesome classes (from what I can tell so far, at least) and I couldn’t be happier. UNTIL I got to the second to last paragraph. That is when I became disappointed in myself. You know why? BECAUSE I FORGOT AN IDIOM. This is the passage I’m referencing:

“So now I’m hoping that one of my scholarships that I set aside for Spring term can be put towards that, lowering our amount due to $600. Which is still a lot of money, but not as much as it was before. Let’s just say it was a frustrating day, added insult to injury, poured salt in the wound, etc.”

So as you can see, there are two idioms currently in this sentence: ‘added insult to injury’ and ‘poured salt in the wound’. Although I did include the et cetera, I am greatly upset that I left out another idiom. I’m very disappointed that I forgot it and I feel like I have insulted this idiom. It’s just as important as the others and is used just as often. No one deserves to be left out. Ohana means family. And family means no one gets left behind or forgotten. Even idioms.

So, as a formal apology, I created this blog post to showcase said idiom. Without further ado, I give you “Kicked me when I was down.” A lovely idiom that would have fit perfectly in that sentence, if only I had taken the time to remember it.

Here’s to you, “Kicked me when I was down”, and all other lost, forgotten, misplaced and misused idioms of the English language!

Well, hello, people of the internet! It has been a few months so I figured I would get you all caught up on what has been happening since my last post!

As you may remember (though you may not because it was a few months ago and I realize that the world does not revolve around me, and therefore it is not a requirement that you remember every detail about my life. However, if you do happen to remember every detail of my life, I’m really not that great. I’m not saying that you need new priorities… but you need new priorities.) I got my feeding tube taken out after 10 years! It now looks like I have two belly buttons, so yes, I am an alien. It will eventually close up, but since it had been such a long time, it may take a while. I also had my I.V. Port removed from my chest. So now the only foreign objects in my body are my lungs!

I start at UCF in a few days, which I am very excited for. I’ve missed school. I miss seeing people who are not my family or coworkers. I mean, seriously. Those Bonefish people get annoying after a while. It’s always, “Jordan, can you give me more tables” “Jordan, can you run this to a table for me?” “Jordan, I love your necklace and I’m going to rip it off of your neck” But I really do love my BFG family. Well, except for Meghan. She is too much to handle and I can’t imagine what her ACTUAL family goes through.

Now for the main reason I wrote today: I got a tattoo! Some of you are probably like, “Yay? It’s just a tattoo.” Well, you can leave then. I almost got a tattoo last November when two of my amazing best friends got “with every breath” tattooed on their beautiful bodies. I wanted to, but was unsure of how that would affect possible transplant. I made the right decision at the time, because less than a month later, I was on life support and waiting for lung to become available. Remember that? Ah, fun times.

Well after all that hullabaloo, I wanted to get a tattoo so that I would always be reminded of what I had been through (not that I could really forget, but whatever). However, I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to get one because of the risk of infection and the immunosuppressants that I am on. So I felt like I had been screwed over and that life wasn’t fair because I wanted a tattoo and I couldn’t get one because I had been SO INCONVENIENCED by the double lung transplant that saved my life. Well that pity party lasted all of .5 seconds because, let’s face it, I dislike people who look a gift horse in the mouth and take what they have for granted. Like all my ancestors before me, I did what they all did when they needed guidance and answers to life’s great inquiries: I Googled.

Through my research (I actually only read one forum so I don’t think it counts as research) I found out that others who had received transplants had been given the green light by their doctor. So when Dr. Pelaez said yes, I burst in to tears because that just seems to be my natural response to everything. Robin Williams passes away? Tears. Groot sacrifices himself for the rest of the Guardians? Tears. The WiFi doesn’t work? Tears. You get the picture.

I then drew out what I wanted because I’m a control freak. I wanted my best friends to be there because they came up with the original idea. But I had to wait for Moriah to get back from Gainseville because for some reason I can’t figure out, she actually likes going to UF and doesn’t want to transfer to UCF and spend all her time with me. Weirdo. Moriah finally arrives home from the land of alligators and we went and got my tattoo yesterday! It didn’t really hurt and only took about 30 minutes or so. It turned out perfect and I couldn’t be happier for it. I think you might be able to see my second belly button in some of these pictures. You’re welcome.