Thursday, January 27, 2011

run forest run


Another thing I like doing lately...running. Not so much that I like it...heck I see why people don't work out. It's kind of hard? ahah but I like feeling the burning in my chest. I LOVE feeling my lungs inflate like little balloons expanding so hard trying to suck air in, as my feet pound and stride in a run (or jog, depending on who your asking.) I LOVE feeling my chest heave up and down, but the recovery time is amazing now, the no light headness from jogging, the able to improve week after week, able to run for longer. I LOVE sweating and having red cheeks after going to the gym now.
I am in LOVE with breathing.







http://www.flickr.com/photos/maerten/5227785814/

hattitude is back in the building.


I've been working away the past week with hardly any breaks getting ready for a Hattitude jewellery home party on Saturday. I have some great new designs. My favourite thing to do is design a necklace with an outfit. Maybe that is why I am always thrift store shopping, so that I can come up with new necklace designs to go with the new clothes?

A few weeks ago I designed a brides jewels for her wedding in Mexico. She was the easiest bride ever to design for. She said, I love everything you make, here's my dress, my shoes, work your magic. So I went to town. Designing, creating building. She wanted boho chic, caribbean flare, turquoise and greens, ocean colours. I had a vintage gold heart, with a seahorse, and an old earring that was a green shell, with turqouise and green stones and vintage beads from old necklaces,with lots of chains etc. She looked STUNNING!

This week I shot and worked on my valentines day collection! 2 and half weeks away to love day!

I like this story the best about my Hattitude life. In June of 2010, right when I really started going down hill and not knowing how much more my spirits could take, how much more my body could endure, how much more I could go through...My aunt came over to the house, wearing some of her Hattitude, she put it on backwards knowing full well that (in my right state of mind) I would have commented on it, and fixed her Hattitude jewellery so that it was the correct way. I love seeing my jewellery on other people, because it means I get to view my precious ones, haha, so I always make sure they are straightened out and perfect when I see them. Anyways in June she thought it would be funny to completely throw me and wear the whole necklace backwards. I didn't say a word, not a peep. I do not even remember that. She went home after wards and said to my uncle, "Hattie's really not well...she didn't' even touch my necklace".
That was the hardest month for me, June. I kind of checked out. July 5th I got the call. Just in time to keep what was left of my sanity in tack.

After the third time being intubated (life treated me real well after I got new lungs, I had a rough time directly following transplant) I was back in ICU for the 3rd time, three times a charm eh?

My cousin came up from the states, she couldn't stand being down there while I was going through this, hearing things second hand, we're pretty close, so she came in to ICU and I'm all sprawled, tube in mouth, breathing machine doing the work for me, legs crumpled, muscles depleted, probably looking like I've just been in the worst car accident ever...and I raise my arms up to her, which she instantly thinks I am going to hug her (I'm not a huggie person...I think it's an armstrong defective gene haha) .....I reach up and straighten her Hattitude necklace....she says that's how she knew I was back. Hattitude was back in the building. No hugs, just the straight goods. Down to business. Let's fix this necklace and get you lookin' good was what I was thinking... haha.

So thats how they knew after the third time of being intubated, the third time being sent back to ICU...that I was gonna be okay. They knew I was back. They knew I was gonna make it.

Sunday, January 23, 2011

Cherishing Each Breath

Cherishing each breath: After enduring a double lung transplant six months ago, Caledon’s Hattie Dunstan is breathing a little easier. The 23-year-old woman was the inspiration behind countless fundraising events in 2010, including Couture Fashion for a Cure held at Glen Eagle Golf Club this past summer that helped raise $40,000 for Cystic Fibrosis research. Her friends and family have been behind her throughout her recovery and all of them, Hattie included, are breathing easier these days now that the jewelry designer is on her way to making a full recovery. Read Hattie’s story on page 12. Matthew Strader photo

Matthew wrote another great article on lung transplants, and my journey and CF and organ donation! Here is it from last thursday's paper. You can check it out by clicking here, or read below.

Thanks Matthew for making me look so good! :) haha





Six months, two lungs, and one incomplete thank you
Thursday January 20 2011
By Matthew Strader, Enterprise Staff
Hattie Dunstan and mom, Cathy, share a laugh as a reporter suggests an uncomfortable position to gain a smile. Dunstan isn’t thrilled about being on her mom’s lap for a photo, but mom, is clearly thrilled about holding the daughter she almost lost to Cystic Fibrosis just six months ago. Matthew Strader photo

Hattie Dunstan thanks donors for giving her a new lease on life

The life of Hattie Dunstan has been quite the story.

Twenty-three years old and she could have a book written about her life.

Fortunately, for her family, her friends, jewelry lovers, organ transplant patients, and the rest of the world, that book can be put on hold.

This girl’s got way more chapters to write.

Dunstan’s story came perilously close to its end last summer. At 22-years-old, a lifetime battle with Cystic Fibrosis (CF) culminated in lung function levels that dropped to approximately 10 per cent this past July, a placing on an emergent transplant required list, and a double lung transplant on July 5.

On Jan. 11, Dunstan had her six-month assessment and received a thumbs up. The time period is a large barrier for transplant patients. She has been given permission to travel outside of Canada. Her drug regimen has been reduced. She no longer has to do masks, using a mask nebuliser to encourage the movement of mucus is a popular CF treatment, and other parts of her life are changing.

She has reached 53 per cent lung function. A seven per cent drop from her peak of 60 per cent, but still a positive change for a girl who has never had 100 per cent lung function.

“There’s other things too,” she said. “I just feel better. I used to have aches and pains in my body all the time, and I don’t now. I’ve gotten better. It’s so nice. And after a year you’re supposed to be even better, which I’m pretty excited about.”

The drop of seven per cent adds to a concern that she could face problems with infection, or rejection. Both sound dire, but both are treatable. In fact, she dealt with rejection three weeks out of her surgery.

“They pumped me full of IV steroids,” she said. “I can remember this doctor standing over me and saying, are you scared by the word rejection? And rejection alarms went off in my head. I thought, oh well, this didn’t work out. But yeah, it’s treatable. They didn’t do a great job of explaining that to me.”

Her doctors are her lifesavers, and Dunstan cherishes every breath she takes now, but for other transplant patients, for those about to enter a similar situation, her ordeal did inspire some ideas of what she could lend to their experience.


“Until I heard things from other transplant patients, it’s nothing but mystery,” she said. One of those, you’ve got to do it to really get it things? Absolutely.

“Nobody can tell you what it’s like,” she said. “No matter how hard they try.”

She spoke to other patients, other CF sufferers through blogs, e-mail, texting and the old-fashioned phone call. She wondered if the pain she was feeling after the surgery was worth it? If the struggles were normal?

“Was my head supposed to be this foggy?” she said. “I didn’t know. And even if they try, doctors just don’t reassure you. But then I spoke with another girl who had just gone through transplant, and she said, ‘Yes, I felt that too. It’s normal.’ And I felt like okay, someone else has done this. It’s okay.”

Dunstan imagines creating a written resource for transplant patients. A piece of material that will describe some of the experiences she found most difficult, and help with the littlest of things you wouldn’t imagine are a trial until you’re going through them.

“We had to do all the research ourselves. Where to find walkers, or even things for the bathroom.”

She imagines the creation of a transplant house in downtown Toronto. Her fundraising skills, and those of her close friends, were put to the test this past summer as ‘Hattie’s Crew’, a group of girls led by Kim Alderdice, Rachael Grice, Lindsay Bishop and others, organized car washes, bottle drives, fashions shows and more that raised approximately $40,000 for CF in Canada.

Now they want to put those skills into the larger project of creating a home for transplants patients so that others don’t have to search for accommodations or resources the way she did.

Dunstan is 23, she has a new lease on a life that has been weakened since her earliest years. Why doesn’t she just focus on Hattie? Why does she now want to spend her time giving back?

Does she feel an innate guilt over how she received her lungs? Yes. It’s something she can’t help.

“I guess…. I don’t want their lungs, their death to have been in vain,” she said. “I don’t know if I feel there’s anything in particular I’m supposed to do, but you’re just so happy, and meanwhile know that someone is so sad.

“I think about what my family went through. I can still see my brother holding my hand and crying when I was going into my operation, and I made it. Somewhere somebody didn’t make it, and that’s why I got lungs. It’s weird.”

She has a theory that her donor is a man. Under 29. She wrote what is known as a donor letter. A thank you to the family that made the preparations to see the organs of their lost family member save a life. But she hasn’t made it through the screening.

“I wrote it and it got sent back,” she said. “I put too much about myself in it.”

The letters are screened twice. Donor recipients aren’t supposed to include personal information for security reasons. The medical system doesn’t want families interacting with families when there could be the possibility of hard feelings.

Dunstan has a different vision.

“I wrote it trying to say thank you,” she said. “In an ideal, perfect world I would love to make contact. I think about a story I heard about a man having dinner with his donor family, the mom asks if she can just put her hands on him and feel her daughter once more. I think about that, and I would love to give them that opportunity. But I understand why they’re careful. They don’t want the family to come back at me and expect something from me.”

But everyone can expect something from her. Expectations are bred when the subject is so dedicated, and so inspirational. And Dunstan is that in spades.

In many ways she is a cliché.

She is a girl who loves fashion, and because of that makes jewelry, reads fashion magazines and dreams about couture dresses. But how many of those girls would launch a successful jewelry making business at 16 years old? How many would continue their dreams during a life threatening disease? And how many alter their own dreams to begin focusing on the betterment of others?

Dunstan does. And she continues to write those chapters.

And we keep reading.

Maybe it is us who owe her the thank you.

Check out her jewelry at www.gothattitude.com.

Learn about Cystic Fibrosis, and how you can donate at www.cysticfibrosis.ca.

And follow Dunstan’s daily journey at www.icecreammaplesyrup.blogspot.com.


Monday, January 17, 2011

a face of organ donation.

Here are some photos that kind of freak me out...
I don't like thinking of myself as so sick. I don't like thinking of what it was like not to be able to breathe. I don't like thinking about coughing until you throw up. I don't like thinking about the count down until I had to go in for another tune up. I don't like remembering the horror of getting a picc lines placed in.

Fast Forward one year later from when I really started to go down hill...I'm kind of, sort of, most definitely falling head over heels in love..... with breathing. It's so easy. I just walk walk walk everywhere, because I can.


March 2010. Picc Line. Life consisted of sleeping, eating (when I could) coughing up mucus, physio, masking, more sleeping, physio, masking, even more sleeping, physio, masking, and still more sleeping....not much of a life. Drugs Drugs and more Drugs. Thanks scientists for keeping us alive. One week listed. Oxygen concentrator. Noisy, blasted, devil thing.
Medicine cabinet before transplant. Nebulizers, and masking....NO MORE! freedom. 3 weeks after Transplant. July 2010. At a Concert. November 2010. 4 months after double lung transplant. My 23rd surprise birthday party Dec 2010. Best Friends. 7 months after I first signed the dotted line to get new Organs. 5 months after my surgery. January 2011. Living Life. Breathing Easy. 6 months after surgery.
Thumbs up to Organ donation. Saving lives, one (or two) organ at a time.

Thursday, January 13, 2011

6 month lungiversary.


It's been six months since I was wheeled into surgery, going down the hall, waving hi, and bye, and nice to "meet" you to a fellow CF'er, A who had been transplanted a year and a half earlier.
I told my family to stop crying, suck it up, I'll be fine! waved goodbye, and said 'see ya on the other side'. I was wheeled into the operating room, and left talking to my anesthesiologist telling him my allergies to specific IV tapes, etc., and other nurses (who told me I would get my earrings back after the operation...I'm still waiting on that one. At least I got my glasses back! ha)

I remember waking up and remember being told just let the machine do the work for you. So I did. I tried not to panic, and just let this big thing in my mouth do the breathing for me. As my chest slowly rose and fell. It was hard breathing through that mouth intubator piece machine ordeal. I remember slipping in and out of sleep every couple of minutes. I don't even know how my ICU nurse knew I was awake, as my eyes were barely even open slits, and I certainly could not talk. My chest felt heavy, swollen, and I was totally drugged up. Out of my mind. It felt like there were multiple piles of bricks on my chest. It was so hard to breath through the machine, intubator because a. it's a tiny little tube that I think is down my throat, somehow making my chest breathe, so I'm fighting to breathe through that, PLUS they turned the machine down so that I'm doing like 90% of the work, while breathing through this smaller airway opening, so that they can make sure that my lungs will work on their own without the machine...it's not a very good measurement since it is SO much harder when they turn the machine down, almost off, yet you have this intubated tube still shoved down your throat.

Anyways I'm not sure where I was going with that little rant, but alas, it was my 6 month assessment this week. It went fairly well. My lung function was down a bit to 53% so they were worried that I might have rejection or infection. Results are in and I do not have rejection, I repeat I do NOT have rejection! WOO.
Infection takes a couple more days to get back, since they have to grow the biopsies from the bronchoscopy in a petree dish. I guess I was being lazy that day doing the breathing test? Hopefully in two weeks time my lung function is back up!
I also did my six minute walk test. I doubled my meters from October! I did 532, verses my measly 200 meters back in October at my 3 month assessment. 700 is 'normal' for someone my height and who has not gone through a lung operation. So almost there!

They also gave me the go ahead to start travelling in the US and Canada. First trip up, is out west in February! I'm uber pumped. I'm getting antsy to bust out these new lungs in the world.
ALSO another fun fantastic super neat thing...I ran a city block last weekend and tonight I ran up the movie theatre stairs (5 months ago, my physiotherapist on the ward, said, okay lets try the stairs, and I early fell over, he basically carried me up the flight of stairs, I was so weak...today... running up those babies...no big deal) and in to the building.
Finally at about 5 1/2 months my legs stopped aching and hips stopped pounding. They feel almost completely normally.
6 months and counting!

Saturday, January 1, 2011

2010 a year for land marks "don't give up, the best is yet to come"

2011 is here and I could not be more happy!
I made it. I did it. I'm here. phew. It sure was cuttin' it close at one point there....yikes

I think I can rightfully and most definitely say 2010 was a year living in hell, probably not only for me, but for my family and a good chunk of my friends. Watching from the sidelines as I spiralled down and down into the waiting hands of death was probably not one of the best year for them either? I'm guessing they probably would have liked to be doing a number of other things at the age of 22...so here's to shaking off 2010, bring it 2011, you are fab.

Last year I made did a post about what each month brought over the year, so I figured I would do the same for this year.
January brought a cancelled trip to barbados due to more IV meds, and a disappointed and sad Hattie and Nicole...we never got our bajan dance or rum punches on the beach. 2012 here we come. (it's nice I can write that with confidence that it will happen. Thank you donor)

February brought still numerous amounts of IV meds. February also brought Eva's good bye video as her new lungs failed her....rest in peace and breathe easy my girl...

March brought a picc line being pulled, salsa dancing, and another re insertion of a picc (yes the salsa night was worth it!) March also brought about the idea of a fashion show fundraiser to raise funds for CF....little did I know what a roller coaster ride we were about to embark on with this idea!

April brought a new time low. I developed lung envy for the first time in my life.
I also asked to be hospitalized. I usually did my course of IV meds at home with the help of the fam jam and home care nursing, but after 22 years...CF took one for the team, 1 point CF...I was tired and needed a break, My personality was gone, and all my effort and energy and life was consumed by just trying to take that one simple breath.
In to the hospital I went...and never really came out. It did bring new nurses and physiotherapists in to my life, that I will cherish forever. Hospital care workers are amazing.

In May I got a fortune cookie while in hospital and out for dinner, that said "Don't give up, the best is yet to come".....could not be more true. May was another month where friends visited me in my hospital "suite" I think I had the best room on the ward! May was a busy time for the CFforCF fashion show. Kim and me would set up shop on my hospital bed, long after I would crank up my oxygen and re arrange the tubing around the piles of paper work and computers getting ready for the fundraiser.
May was the month I signed the dotted line. My hands were shaking...but I made sure the surgeons were not haha I was officially listed for some brand new organs.

June brought a hard month, a long month. A month in and out of hospital. A month I wasn't sure how much more I could endure and my spirits were tested and pushed to the extreme. June brought my mom's birthday celebration in a hospital bedroom, as we all sat around on milk crates and pillows on the hospital floor. Grandma B even made us cake and we ate it in the dark little room with the sound of the IV machine beeping as our background music.
June brought fear, and worry for the unknown. June brought about my mom sleeping on a cot at the foot of my hospital bed, as we waited for my pager to go off.

July brought me new life and the beginning of the hardest journey I will ever endure.
July 5th I woke up to my new lungs ready for me.
July brought hardships and trials and tribulations that I cannot quite explain or describe to any other human.

August brought tears of happiness as I was released from hospital, but still on a strenuous, horrendous and terrifying road that I prayed and hoped would end and hopefully get better as I was told it was suppose to. August brought tears from the simple act of a shower. Thanks JM.
August brought the fashion show. The goal 30 plus amazing and superior young women had worked towards for months.

September brought a new condo and the beginnings of hard physio work to get back all the strength I had lost.

October brought a CF aftershock party, and my favourite time of year, Halloween. October brought me out of my medicine induced fog brain, and the beginnings of enjoying this gift that I had been given.

November brought concerts, live music, and feeding my soul after being starved for a year of things in life that I love so much.

December brought me a surprise 23rd birthday, (the most greatest time ever) and the reconfirmation that I have the best friends in the world.
December brought me my family, the smell of Christmas, a hike in the snow, the gift of deep breath, and the hope of a new year, a better year, a great year.