All teenagers rebel, it's just a matter of the severity. Whether it's against their parents, teachers, friends, or against the world, there is resistance. With the rush of hormones and changing bodies, teenagers have a brash sense of overconfidence and invincibility that can lead them toward success or failure as young adults.

For me, growing up with cystic fibrosis made it altogether different. I spent my early teenage years mad at the world and having a general “screw it” attitude. My friends were filling out college applications and planning their futures, but that was the furthest thing from my mind. I had been given a death sentence, told I most likely wouldn't make it to 20, so what was the point?

That gave me a very bleak outlook on life. Right or wrong, I didn't care about taking care of myself or preventing progression of CF. I started to argue with my parents and doctors about treatments, wouldn't take my normal medications or do my respiratory therapies if not watched. In my mind, I wasn't giving up -- I was just living my life on my terms.

I wanted to go to concerts, party, and hang out with friends, not be bogged down by an illness I couldn't escape. And I certainly did just that, ignoring my body in favor of the moment, the here and now, the experience.

Many nights I would lie down and my body would be angry and revolting, causing severe shortness of breath and coughing fits. But instead of doing the recommended treatments and keeping active, I did the bare minimum to get by, just to calm the storm for the next day. I had a favorite quote, albeit morbid, from one of my idols, Jimi Hendrix. He said, “I'm the one that's gotta die when it's my time; so let me live my life the way I want to.” Bleak, I know.

My behavior and habits went on this way for some years, through high school and college. Yes, I went to college! And I wish that I had applied myself there. Mostly I made decent grades with minimal effort while getting the most out of the college experience.

I thought I wouldn't have to settle into a career, that one day the illness would take over and I would fade to black like the end of a movie. Somewhere along the way, though, I started to think more long-term. It must have been when I was 23 or 24, and I saw that the available treatments were getting better. The future started to look a little brighter.

I was more motivated to be active. I began hiking and rock climbing and taking better care of myself. I began to feel more normal than I had in a long time, but some irreversible damage had most likely already been done. That's the thing about a progressive chronic illness, it seems. Once you lose a little bit of function it is almost impossible to get back to that level.

Now, as the years go on, I have to try harder and harder to keep up with the progression. My hospitalizations are more frequent and my therapies are more involved. I live a healthy lifestyle now, but I can't get back what I lost. 

I wonder sometimes if the things I did in my late teens and early twenties contributed to this decline or if it's just the nature of CF.

I can't go back and change things, however. I can only forge ahead. If I could talk to my teenage self, I would tell myself that there is a bright future and good quality of life. I'd tell myself that although living in the moment is good, you must keep one eye on the future and how your decisions will impact the years ahead. I'd tell myself to continue striving to live the healthiest and fullest life possible.