Watching my daughter meet the young man she had fallen in love with

After my late daughter, Jasmine, turned 17, something new began to grow alongside the medical routines that had shaped her life with cystic fibrosis (CF).

Every morning still started with the bronchial drainage machine loosening the mucus in her lungs. Nebulizer treatments followed, and pancreatic enzymes remained a part of every meal. Yet once her treatments were finished, Jasmine hurried to the computer with excitement. She had met a boy through online gaming a little while back and had built a relationship with him over the phone.

Jasmine did not immediately tell him about her CF. She liked being known as a gamer before being known as a patient. For once, the first questions were about gaming rather than her lungs. Still, she knew she could not hide such an important part of herself forever.

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During a phone call, Jasmine began coughing and could not stop. She reached for her nebulizer and apologized, expecting an awkward silence. Instead, the boy listened with recognition.

“Is that aerosol for cystic fibrosis?” he asked.

Jasmine stared at the phone. “How did you know?”

He paused, then told her that he had CF, too. His illness had damaged his lungs so severely that he had needed a double-lung transplant. He showed her the scars across his chest and explained the daily anti-rejection medications he took to protect his donated lungs.

Jasmine had never met anyone her age who understood so much without an explanation. He knew about pancreatic enzymes, infections, hospital rooms, and treatments that left a person exhausted before the day began. Although his transplant had given him healthier lungs, it had not erased CF from the rest of his body. He still took medication, attended medical appointments, and lived with the fear of rejection.

Their connection changed after that conversation. They no longer had to pretend their lives were simple. On difficult mornings, he stayed online while Jasmine used the bronchial drainage machine. She reminded him to take his anti-rejection medication, and he reminded her that completing her nebulizer treatments mattered, even when she was tired of them.

Yet they didn’t build their love entirely around illness. They watched movies, and I would hear them over the phone, trying to pause the VCR at the right moment so the audio would sync, and doing a countdown to hit the play button on the remote so they could watch it together, but in completely different states. They talked about college, careers, and traveling somewhere neither of them had ever been. Their shared experience brought them together, but their affection grew from everything else they discovered.

One night, the boy said, “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

Jasmine smiled at the phone. “I think I already did.”

‘You’re real’

Meeting in person was complicated. People with CF can carry bacteria that are dangerous to others with the disease, and his transplant made him especially vulnerable to infection. I did not want them to take unnecessary risks, and neither did his parents. Their medical teams discussed strict precautions, including masks, distance, hand-washing, and avoiding contact during illness.

Months passed before the doctors approved of a carefully planned meeting. Jasmine chose a botanical garden with wide outdoor paths. I drove her there, while the boy arrived with his family. She had changed outfits four times that morning and checked twice that she had packed her pancreatic enzymes and albuterol rescue inhaler.

When she finally saw him near the entrance, she stopped walking. He looked just as nervous as she felt. For a moment, they simply stared at each other.

“You’re real,” Jasmine said.

“So are you,” he answered.

Because of the medical precautions, they could not greet each other with the embrace they had imagined. Instead, they walked side by side, keeping the distance their doctors required. They talked beneath flowering trees and shared a picnic at separate ends of a table. It was not a perfect first date, but to Jasmine, it felt perfect anyway.

We continued collaborating with their doctors so they could meet safely. They protected each other by following every medical guideline, even when it was frustrating.

Their lives still included medications, pancreatic enzymes, hospital appointments, nebulizer treatments, and the bronchial drainage machine. None of it vanished simply because they fell in love.

They built a bond from patience, careful choices, and ordinary happiness. Their love did not cure CF, but it gave them both another reason to keep choosing tomorrow. Even though both of them are no longer with us, it was a key moment in my life as Jasmine’s father to watch her grow, fall in love, and enjoy everything she built around CF and the routines that helped make it all possible.

Note: Cystic Fibrosis News Today is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Cystic Fibrosis News Today or its parent company, Bionews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to cystic fibrosis.