Dealing With My News
When I grow up I want to be a doctor. Or a nurse. Or a social worker. Or a writer. Or a teacher. A high school chem teacher. A high school math teacher. A kindergarten teacher. A preschool teacher. A philanthropist. A big exec at the CF Foundation. A big exec anywhere. Why? Because maybe I can. I really don't know how to think about my life anymore. What if this is "the cure?" (great band btw). Sure, my pancreas still won't work so I'll still have lots of pills and I'll still be diabetic and there may still be some lung problems because you can't undo the scarring that has happened. But if my lung functions can stay fairly stable for the next couple years, and then I get them better I could... fuck my phone rang and I lost my train of thought. I'm pretty sure I was going to say I could do so many things. My mind can't even hold all the things that could or would change about my life. For one thing, I could get a job - or finish c...