They have identified that Isaac now has a (CF related) fungus growing in his lungs, which may, again, explain why he has been so sick. They have decided to do a broncoscopy tomorrow (an operation where they look in his lungs with a camera, and also suck out some of the yucky mucous). This should tell us a lot about his lung health. He has had one before, and the after effects were only to make him feel more unwell. He will also start anti-fungal meds.
After holding it together quite well for a while, I would like to apologise to the colleague I cried all over, before walking out of work; the pancake section in Tesco which I also cried onto; my Dad, who left with a mascara-tearstained shirt; and the teacher at my daughters parents evening, who I also cried in front of. It's like someone has turned the tap on and now I can't bloody turn it off.
People seem amazed that I am still managing to write this blog while everything is so shit, and I've been trying to work out why I do: I think its both because I find it cathartic; that putting it into words makes it exist not only in my tormented head, meaning I can be more objective about it afterwards, but also because it lets all my family and friends know how he is doing in my own, carefully chosen words, whereas when people ask me in person (and I still like that they care enough to ask) I am not nearly as articulate; words come out all jumbled, I miss the important bits, spew out lots of rubbish, or I just can't speak at all (in which case people might think I am either rude, just fine, or in the worst place possible - none of which are true).
Tomorrow will be hard, but Isaac is facing it in his usual good humour. We just want him well and home x
(Feeling Rothko blue)
