Tis the season of giving

Tis the season of giving, and though Hanukkah and Christmas have past,  I hope there is still some giving spirit left in you, because I want to ask you for something, or rather, to do something. I want to ask you and your loved ones to sign up to be an organ donor - if you do in fact want to be one and you have not already signed up.

This may seem like an odd post posted at an odd time, but it's not. See, today I learned that Jess Wales, a lady with CF, got a new pair of lungs in the early hours of this morning in a hospital just a few miles from my flat.  I do not personally know Jess, but I have been following her story for a while now and hearing this good news has made me excited and thoughtful and fidgety. I am excited for her and all the great things that can now and will hopefully happen for in her the future. I am thoughtful because somewhere a family is mourning the loss of a loved one, a person kind enough to give someone else a chance at life upon losing his or hers.  And I am fidgety because I  want to do something to help raise awareness - awareness about organ donation, lack thereof  and a fantastic charity called Live Life Then Give Life.

You should have a look at their site, but here are a few quick facts for you if you don't have time:

• You are more likely to need a transplant than to become a donor.

• Over 8000 people are currently waiting for a transplant.

• Less than 3000 transplants are carried out each year.

• Last year, over 1000 people died whilst waiting for a transplant.

Jess waited 4 years for a transplant. 4 years. I hope you will take a moment to think about what it must be like to wait for something something as basic as a deep breath for 4 years. Then think about the fact that you are more likely to need a transplant then you are to become a donor.  Then read that last fact again.  Then think about this:  90% of the population support organ donation, only 25% are on the organ donor register.


So this holiday season, do something generous and sign up to the donor registry here.  It is a great way to show goodwill towards your fellow man and woman and it's free (a bonus in these trying times!) 

Lovely Liam

Last night my best friend welcomed her first baby and I could not be more excited! Liam Michael Sudderth is a real looker (future stud muffin, no doubt) and the proud owner of two beautiful parents, Britt and Andrew. Congratulations, Liam! Take good care of them.

Liam's arrival has stirred up a lot of emotions in me and has got me thinking.  For starters, Britt and I have been friends since we were little girls and I keep wondering when in the heck we got old enough to be havin' babies. The little girl in me wants to tell the little girl in Britt that I know where babies come from and so I know she has been up to some naughtiness.  Luckily the gown up bit of me prevails, though, and I don't need to say this.

So 10-hour-old Liam has got the grown up in me mulling over some things.  First and foremost, I am really happy for Britt and Andrew.  His arrival has been eagerly anticipated and Britt and Andrew will be great parents.  And the other thing I am thinking - I am so pleased I am here to know of Liam's arrival and I hope I am around for many more years so I can can spoil him rotten.

You see, when I was born the median life expectancy for a person with CF was 18. Thanks to the amazing advances in CF care, this number is now 37 and getting better every year. Liam's arrival has me feeling very thankful that I am long past 18 and am here to know of his existence. But his arrival also has me wanting more. I want to be around to attend his wedding so Britt and and I can have a good laugh about the fact that she is a mother in law and when did we get old enough for that to happen! And  seeing as I don't want Liam to be a child groom, I will keep hoping that the advances in CF care keep coming.

In the sick of it: Home.

I have been back home in London since Saturday afternoon and I literally am in the sick of it! But for once in all my 27 years, it's not me that is ill and for this, and other things, I am thankful.

We got home mid afternoon on Saturday and, in desperate need of a nap, both crashed. We hadn't had much sleep on the plane as a little nipper on our aisle would start winging every time we just feel about feel asleep.  I don't mean to sound bitter about the babbling babe, but I couldn't see that he was upset for any particular reason. I am quite happy for little people to be upset.....so long as there is a reason....

Anyway, after our long naps, Alastair started to complain that he didn't feel well. We went to bed but in the middle of the night he woke as he felt he was going to be sick. He was indeed sick, several times, and he was still making friends with bathroom floor and I was looking on and doing my best to help when the sun started to come up.  Sunday and Monday brought a fever but there was no more cookie tossing. I was pleased about this as I still hadn't finished washing all the sheets and towels that got it the first night. (Life without a dryer. Oy vey!)

I left a stable Alastair last night to see a friend who was leaving London in the morning. Dinner was nice and I enjoyed seeing the Christmas lights on Oxford St. On the bus home I was contemplating life and my return to London when I heard a dreaded noise. You may know it. The splitter splatter noise that vomit makes when it hits the bus floor. I looked over, and in horror, spied a man old enough to know better tossing his Christmas party drinks a few seats away. He threw up eight times and then sat back and closed his eyes like nothing had happened.  As I watched the rivulets of vomit cross the aisle and head towards my new boots, my mind raced.  This was not what I envisioned of my London homecoming. Why am I surrounded by vomit at every turn? Annoying, drunk man ruining public transport. And for gods sake, woman, move before your shoes get it!


I leapt up and lunged towards the front of the bus, careful to avoid the sick streams.  Drunk man also thought it was a god idea to move and crossed the aisle to sit in my vacated seat. He sat there for a moment and acted like nothing much was happening, like he himself was not responsible for him having to move. I gave him a very dirty stare and when he looked at me I told him that he was old enough to know better. In a slightly comical Italian accent he told me he knew it was horrible and he was sorry. "I am so druncccccc," he said, followed by "I am soooreee, I'm ambarassed,"he said over and over again. I told him it was not me he needed to apologise to but to the bus driver. In response, he jumped up and lurched past me towards the front, explaining himself as he went.  He then sat down and proceeded to call a cab and explain that he was very drunk, had been sick and was very embarrassed and please could they send a cab to him even though he didn't know where he was.  He looked confused when the cab company hung up on him.

As I got off the bus and made my way back towards the flat, I again considered my not-so-glorious London return.  The past few days had certainly not gone as I planned.  Playing nurse, piles of laundry, and telling a grown man he was naughty for throwing up on public transport had not been on my London Return to do list. It was then that I realised the universe was reminding me things don't always go as planned and I had much to be thankful for.

I had not planned on Alastair being sick, but in him being sick I was given the opportunity to look after and care for him as he has done for me so many times in the past. I had not planned on washing sheets and towels that had just been washed in my absence, but wasn't I lucky that we had extra sheets and towels to use while the others dried in a warm flat. And wasn't I lucky to be living in a city with good public transport and people being merry. And wasn't I lucky that I had managed to not get vomit on the nice new boots my parents had bought me for Christmas.

So I am home and am in the thick...or sick...of it and trying to be appreciative of all that I am in the middle of.

Snow in Dallas, sun in LA

The saying goes that if you don't like the weather in Texas, wait 15 minutes.  An appropriate saying for today because when I woke up, Dallas was dusted with snow.  It  is pretty weather, but hell on my asthma, so I am glad I am off to warmer weather and blue skies in Los Angeles in a few hours.

On the plane I am gonna try to catch up on some posts so I can tell you all what I have been up to these last few weeks.