The places I go …

Wooloweyah 28.6.16 It is akin to a dream, this dense clump of trees unfolding before me, reaching so sharply into the sky. As I walk through the forest under canopies of palms and eucalypts and a discord of screaming birds, my feet arrive at a bog. I'm at the lip of a lake I cannot reach for … Continue reading The places I go …

I’m going to India!

So how's 2016 treating you so far? I'm deliriously happy to report that mine has begun like no other. Strange things are happening to my body and I'm rising earlier than ever (think 4-5.30am). I'm off the valium I was taking for my restless legs, and I think what has happened is that my body … Continue reading I’m going to India!

Oh my – we have a New Year IN our hands and it’s going to be radtastic!

Yesterday I turned thirty-nine - a stage of life I never thought I would or could ever reach from when I was was a little girl, to when I had my transplant and certainly after I survived cancer. Each year is such a gift, and age is a privilege. Lungs in perfect working order for … Continue reading Oh my – we have a New Year IN our hands and it’s going to be radtastic!

The power of choice

I made a life altering decision yesterday. I decided that I no longer need to rely on my opiate antagonist therapy. I had planned to stop on my birthday, which just happens to fall on New Year's Eve, but I've been feeling so happy and settled that I knew I could do it. And so I … Continue reading The power of choice

Why I’m NOT sorry

Today, my friend - the other Carly, Carly Findlay - wrote a shut up amazing piece about apologising and how she no longer wants to apologise for what is beyond her control. Shortly after reading Carly's piece, I saw the photo Annie Leibovitz took of Amy Schumer in all of her near-naked and non-apologetic glory. I … Continue reading Why I’m NOT sorry

I am an addict

I posted a rant on my chasing away salt water page earlier today, much of which I've included in this piece. It involves the Cystic Fibrosis community - my community, if you will - and my burning question was this: when will people start taking responsibility for their lives? Why are there GoFundMe pages being created to ask for … Continue reading I am an addict

The day I met my donor

I never thought I'd do it. It's been seventeen years, after all. And even if I did do it, I never believed it would be this hard. Mum and I had talked for years about going into Births, Deaths and Marriages to see if we could find her, but today on my own, I went into a quiet room … Continue reading The day I met my donor

The night I lived again: part two

By the time it was definite that the donor lungs were a match, there would have been at least thirty-five people at the hospital – all friends and family. Even a friend’s boyfriend (now husband) had driven down from uni at Gatton, so he could be there for both me, his now wife and my … Continue reading The night I lived again: part two

My night without armour

May-August 1998 I was in the dying room. You know the one. It's quiet. People slip in and out as though they were never there. Festering in a bed for three months, I had grown tired. My arms were the shape of soft baguettes, peppered with freckles like sesame seeds. Lips, a permanent shade of blue. Colourless … Continue reading My night without armour

The trouble with ‘cures’

My good friend, writing peer and all round genuinely awesome woman, Carly Findlay has today written for Daily Life about her experience with false cures and how, at the end of the day, she doesn't want to be cured of her rare and painful skin condition Ichthyosis. Like Carly, I've never wanted to be cured … Continue reading The trouble with ‘cures’