Last Friday when I wrote the previous exceedingly positive post, I thought I was all better. I even went to a conference on Saturday in York although now I'm not sure why I bothered. I realised my cough hadn't gone and I felt so exhausted on Saturday evening that I couldn't stop crying my eyes out even though I knew I was only upset because I was so tired.

But then, I didn't want to spend another weekend in bed so I'm not berating myself too much for going out. It's just that I wanted to have a life, a life away from work. Something which seems an impossible luxury. And now as I face my third weekend with plans for as much sleep as possible, I just think that I can't do it anymore, that it's too much, it's not fair and it's always me that's suffering.

So, I've reached the end of another hard, hard week. Despite having Monday off, I still wasn't better and I couldn't really cope with another week of feeling ill and forcing myself to go to work. By Tuesday, my chest was much improved but I'd started feeling all sick and head-achy. I was only doing a half day on Wednesday and said I'd work from home. But that didn't really help so I had Thursday morning off and came in yesterday afternoon but that was a waste of time. Today I was a bit late but have managed to do some stuff and after a telephone consultation with the hospital yesterday am feeling less stressed about my health. I've got an appointment Monday week so I'll get properly checked over then but the doctor thought my chest infection has pretty much gone and now I'm just contending with an opportune virus.

However, the whole episode has made me realise that I'm one of the rubbish people with cf. Even the smallest chest infection or virus knocks me out for days and that's with a pretty amazing lung function. If I get more ill then I just won't be able to do anything. As it is there is no balance in my life. I've got a part-time job but no social life. When was the last time I phoned or emailed a friend, nevermind met up with someone? I don't know how everyone else with cf manages. I've hardly even got cf. It almost embarrasses me to say how many years it's been since I last had IVs.

So, Hobson's Choice. Have a job and feel OK (sometimes) but get frustrated at the effort it requires and the sacrifices I have to make and really suffer to keep my head above the water when I'm feeling ill. Live in a house that's a complete tip and rely on Henry to do pretty much everything.

Or don't work and be depressed. Not much choice. It just seems that whatever I do, me and life are destined not to get on.

Is it worth it? No I don't think it is. It just seems that however hard I try it's never hard enough, that however many mountains I climb there's always another one waiting for me. Next week is busy, busy, busy. If I'm not better, it'll finish me off and I'll have to seriously think about quitting.