CF Battered Me, but I’m Striking Back at Life at a Full Sprint
I’m dead-beat. Bone-tired. Wasted. But I ain’t dead-dead and I ain’t lung-tired. And with my lung transplant, I guess you could say I’m recycled, rather than wasted. Maybe these jokes don’t make sense. I am exhausted, after all. My glasses are battered, and so are my shoes. I…
