Friday, September 20, 2013

Creating Creations



Well for the past year or so, while doing physio, resting, waiting for meds or attempting to get motivated to exercise, I've started making jewelry! Keeping everything I've made would simply be selfish... and not agreeable to my bank account... so I'm selling. Some of you may have seen the bracelet and earring set I did for the CF Golf tournament in June which, to my utter surprise, raised about $100 for CF!!! Yay! Don't worry, you won't have to spend nearly that much. Supplies/stones can cost as low as $10.
For family and friends and whomever else would like a piece of jewelry made gently and with love, please email me at: kimwood81@gmail.com or facebook me.
I also can take special orders and tailor the piece to whatever you choose. You can even come to the bead shop with me and pick stuff out yourself! 
Here are some pic's. I've named them to make "ordering" easier.


Pocahontas


Lucy


Diana



Carrie



Birdies


Lolita


Alia


Lola



Peacock


Tree


Dangle didi's


Circle Lucy


Genevieve



Fiona's Feathers


Alia's feathers


Olive's opal bracelet


Olive's opal necklace


Winnifred


Katie



Crystal


Sophia


Leaf



Blue Sparrow


Moon




Wednesday, July 10, 2013

Amongst Greatness


For the past week I’ve been waiting for words to pop into my head. Words that will allow me to express what certain events in the past month have meant to me. And they just haven’t come to me. I guess that means… there are no words.

On June 22nd I was surrounded by a ton of people that I respect and value, particularly for the support they’ve shown towards the CF cause. The Rod Brind’Amour Golf Classic raises a huge amount of money (for the small town of Campbell River!) for Cystic Fibrosis Canada to use for research grants, clinical care, advocacy and more. It’s a fundraiser that has grown immensely over the years and luckily we’ve had the continued support of several very important people - Rod Brind’Amour especially.  Every year I’m honoured to publicly thank Rod for coming to the event and for everything he does for us. Rod means a lot to me and has truly become a big brother figure over the years. This year I wanted to show him, and everyone at the event, what a typical day looks like for me so he could see why it’s so important for me to have someone in my life who inspires and motivates me. So, James and I created a video that can be seen here if you’re interested. 
http://www.crcf.ca/news/thank-you-video
Rod is someone who gives me a ton of motivation, which, if you watch the video, is key when living with Cystic Fibrosis.

For the past two years we’ve also had the privilege of having Ryan Nugent-Hopkins attend our event and I just can’t say enough good things about him. Ryan’s a young hockey star who happens to have a heart of gold. You can tell his head’s in the right place and (lucky for us) his heart is as well. He’s kind, generous, and focused on what’s important in life. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting his mother, Debbie, who’s genuinely kind-hearted and has clearly taught Ryan the importance of giving. It’s such an honour having him and his family join our event.

That night I was also presented with the Summerhayes Award which completely shocked me. It’s a national award that is presented to an individual with CF who’s demonstrated an exceptional commitment to the CF cause. Although I’m thrilled to receive this award, I certainly don’t feel I’ve done much to deserve it. Having said that, I was truly honoured to accept it and I’m filled with such gratitude each time I look at it sitting on my mantel.

On the very same day of the golf tournament, the “Gear up for CF” bike ride began; An epic ride from Vancouver to Banff over 9 days. Cyclists rode anywhere between 100 to 190 km’s per day and a LOT of those kilometers were up HUGE hills! Krista Houston is one of my very best friends who I cherish very much. She’s a friend who I can turn to when I’m having a really bad day. She’s a friend who knows what PFT’s are and why they’re important to keep track of. She knows what it means when I have to go on IV antibiotics. And she can tell when I’m too sick to do the things I love to do with her. She’s also a friend who decided to take part in this years “Gear up for CF”.  So, driving up to Banff to greet her at the finish line was an easy decision for James and I to make.

Krista was riding with an amazing group of people. There were people with CF, people with CF who’ve had double lung transplants (who are doing GREAT by the way!), parents of people with CF, people who’ve unfortunately lost loved ones to CF and people who just wanted to be a part of something remarkable.

The CF community has always had this amazing spirit of camaraderie. A kinship with one important goal in mind… to find a cure or control for Cystic Fibrosis. Being amongst this type of solidarity gives you feelings of gratitude, fulfillment, goodwill, friendship and purpose. It reminded me why people volunteer for CF.

At the finish line I was reunited with a dear friend who I met at one of the very last CF camps when we were about 11 and 12 years old. We wrote letters to each other for a few years, but as teenagers do, got caught up in our own lives and lost touch. Being able to reunite with this friend was incredible to say the least. I could have chatted with her all night. It was as if our connection had never been lost and we were able to pick up where we left off all those years ago.

What a fabulous day in Banff! I was able to reconnect with an old friend, welcome another friend as she completed 1200 km’s (on a bicycle!), discover that parents of children with CF hug others with CF with the same love and caring nurture, and bask in the joy of these people all connected to CF. Inspiration bloomed as we celebrated the riders accomplishments.

Some of you know that it’s not recommended for people with CF to be in close proximity to each other because we can share bugs that are harmful to one another. This makes it incredibly difficult to connect with others who are going through or have been through similar experiences in dealing with CF. If you’ve ever had to get through anything difficult in life, you know it is a huge help to talk to someone who’s been there, who can truly empathize. As you may imagine, it’s the same with living with CF. Connecting with others with CF means that you are not alone. And it’s just not the same when it’s on the phone or online. Being present amongst a group of people that have one thing in common is remarkable. It was the first time in a long while that I didn’t feel alone with my disease. I so look forward to the day we can hug each other and not worry about our CF bugs.

I am so very proud to be a part of the CF community and look forward to many more CF events. But perhaps, someday soon, CF won’t be the reason we get together for events. Perhaps CF will simply be what we had in common and a cure for CF will be, in fact, what brings us together in the future.

I'll leave this post with a quote that I absolutely love. A quote that reminds me to do things in life with purpose and meaning.

“Choose to Inhale, do not breath to exist” – Mattie Stepanek

Wednesday, February 13, 2013

Meds, Nebs & Tablets


You flow down my throat, course through my veins, and pour into my lungs. I revolve my life around your dose times. I make numerous trips to the pharmacy to the point where they now call me by name and ask how my husband is doing. I take 14 of you in the morning, 7 of you at lunch, 8 of you at dinner, and 11 of you at night. Being able to swallow you whole for the first time is one of my most vivid childhood memories. You are the first thing I pack and unpack when on vacation. I have dreams of diving into a sea of enzyme capsules, flying through the haze of inhaled medicinal mist, or panicking when I’ve forgotten to bring enough of you to my dreamland holiday. Sometimes you do your job, and sometimes it’s not enough. Sometimes you make me throw up and sometimes you make me feel better. You allow me to function. You allow me to breathe. You allow me to live. But on the day when I’ll need just a few of you, maybe even just one of you to keep me alive, to suppress or perhaps even cure this disease, I will celebrate in a HUGE way. Until that day comes, I’ll continue to swallow, inhale and inject you into my body in hopes of getting through another day.

My rainbow of meds

Sunday, January 27, 2013

The Surgical Daycare Experience


Having surgery can be a very different experience for different people. On Friday, after months and months of debating the pros and cons, I finally got a VAD (vascular access device) in hopes of making future courses of IV antibiotics slightly easier than dealing with PICC lines. It wasn’t a big deal, a simple day surgery with great doctors and nurses taking care of me. But as I waited amongst the various patients, I couldn’t help but feel a bit like cattle being ushered through the surgical system.

It was 10:30am when I walked into the surgical daycare unit, not necessarily full of angst, but filled with feelings of indifference. It actually felt like just another day at St. Paul’s Hospital. The surgical daycare waiting room was full of mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends and girlfriends, sisters and friends. One after another, we were called in, and told to change into the chic blue hospital gowns and put funny blue paper slippers on our feet. It occurred to me that the word gown is the same word to describe glamorous dresses worn by Hollywood stars at red carpet events. Part of me wanted to pretend we (the patients) were movie stars just waiting to be called in to receive our…award, or in our case, surgery.

With my stylish blue “gown” and my pants and socks defiantly still on, I was called into my little hospital bed separated by the other “movie stars” by a thin curtain. Thankfully, with my Momma by my side (James was finishing up an exam at school), we waited, and waited, and waited. All while my stomach was clearly declaring to me through curious noises how it longed for food and water.

After a while of waiting, a lovely nurse came in and asked all the appropriate questions in order to complete her pre-op assessment questionnaire.

After another long while of waiting, the anesthesiologist popped his head through my high-class curtain-separated bed to discuss what type of anesthesia they wanted to use. It was decided that general anesthesia was the safest route for me although this wasn’t my first choice. This way they would at least be able to monitor my lungs more closely and prevent any lung collapse, so I agreed. Soon after this discussion I was blindly (no glasses allowed at this point) wheeled into the familiar yet intimidating OR to be put to sleep. Feeling well taken care of, with a mask on my face, I closed my eyes and was forced to sleep by those wonderful drugs that send you off to la la land.

Hours later I woke up with expected pain and confusion and a lump in my chest that would now be a part of me. A third nipple or nubbin as I joked, but ultimately, a part of me that will hopefully make life a little easier. After getting my pain under control with Fentanyl, Oxycodone and Ativan, my O2 sats started to decline because of the deep sleep I soon fell into. Nasal prongs of O2 were promptly placed under my nose and my mom and husband were soon able to come in and comfort me as my body recovered from having a tube down my throat, my skin cut and sutured and having a line threaded into my jugular. Relief engulfed my body as I saw my Momma and my long-haired James wearing a “trophy husband” t-shirt… obviously. I was happy the surgery was over and I would soon be able to go home and cuddle my sweet little French bulldog.

The surgical daycare is an interesting place. It’s a place filled with anxiety, pain and worry but also filled with family, care and love. This may not be my last experience in the surgical daycare, but I’ll be happy if it’s at least my last for a while.