We don't talk about it

I have Cystic Fibrosis. I don't talk about it much.  I don't like being called a CFer, a CF, a patient.  I don't associate with others like me because I don't want them to rub off on me.  The only people who really knew were my friends that I trusted not to treat me like I am fragile. Now, it's as plain as the oxygen tubing on my face.  My secret is out, and I have to deal with it now.  Now, I find myself in a place that makes it impossible to deny that I am, indeed, different. I am not weak; I am not less.  I am just different.  I need new lungs. Some people need new hearts or kidneys or livers.  I tried not to get involved in "transplant world" as I tried not to get involved in "CF world".  I don't want to be sick and I don't want to identify with being sick.  This is a state of suspended animation for me, a waiting room, a pass through to a new life.  But, I've been touched by transplant world and I have met some really incredible people who are really no different than I am.  People who are waiting to return to themselves.  I have also met people in transplant world that remind me why I don't like identifying with it.  I still don't talk about it, but I am getting more comfortable with it. I still pause when people ask about the oxygen or when I have to explain why I am in FL and Dustin is in GA. But I have found a little bit of safety in knowing that I am not alone and a lot of power in knowing that God gave me this outloud personality for a reason.  I still love to make people laugh and I still hate being a diagnosis rather than a person.  But by embracing it and allowing it to be part of my life rather, I can also begin to hope for what is to come.