Day 8 | Transition of Care
The team envisioned this ‘transition’ would take several years, but they didn’t factor my Mum into the equation. On my next clinic visit, I caught the bus to Subiaco, then walked to the hospital. I waited in the clinic for my turn, which went smoothly until they asked for my Mum. “She sent me on the bus,” I said. To say they were gobsmacked is an understatement. So the doctors rang my Mum, but Mum put them in their place. “This is Sandi’s disease to manage. Not mine. She seems to have a handle on everything.” My Mum had her reasons My Mum had witnessed friend's children with CF go rapidly downhill when they hit adolescence, mostly due to rebellion and non-compliance. She hoped that by handing me control, I wouldn’t rebel quite so much. The added bonus was that when I left home at 18, she knew I’d been managing my health for four years, so my health management wasn’t something she needed to worry about. As a result, I’ve never been shy about advocating for my own health. 31 Days of Cystic Fibrosis Bonus Fact I’m not going to lie and say I was perfectly compliant all the time. At the time the CF diet was still low fat, and I had a rather large dislike to the powdered milk I was supposed to drink, so I would wait until nobody was home to hop into the full cream milk. I wasn’t smart enough to adjust my enzymes accordingly back then, so I spent many hours on the toilet as a consequence of my actions. Some mornings I would skip my physio and say I hadn’t or just lay on my physio table and read. My first few admissions were a direct result of taking these shortcuts — a lesson perhaps not swiftly learned, but in the end, learned well.
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Written bySandi Parsons - Cystic Fibrosis Warrior. |