Ask a person with CF who was diagnosed later in life where they were when they received their diagnosis and they will know. It is etched into our brains. I was in my band hall celebrating with my students after the Texas University Interscholastic League marching contest. We had just received straight ones, the highest score possible, and the kids were eating cake. My gastroenterologist called and said, “Now, don’t flip out. Things are going to be okay. Your genetic report is back, and it suggests you have cystic fibrosis. I will refer you to the Baylor University CF team.” I was 47 years old. 

I didn’t even stop eating cake because, in my mind, nothing had changed. I was still the same person with the same symptoms. I just simply had a new piece of my puzzle. I was still an award-winning band director and a great French horn player. I still had a wonderful and supportive husband. After a few hours of research and some time alone, I began to realize that I truly have a wonderful life.

Growing up, I had many of the same problems as a typical CF patient: bad allergies, respiratory illness, and gastric issues. I wanted to attend school, play in the band, twirl batons, and participate in school functions. I didn’t want to be “the sick girl.” I had pneumonia many times, so doctors would want to run more tests. But my mom would remind us that while it was strange that I had pneumonia nine times, I was an otherwise healthy, happy teenager. Rather than spending days at the hospital running tests and searching for answers that were eluding us, my mom suggested we treat my symptoms, use my band instrument as a therapeutic way to support my lungs, and focus on infection prevention. 

I fell in love with my French horn, playing sometimes six to eight hours a day. My lungs were still not great, but good enough to get me a music scholarship to attend Stephen F. Austin State University in Nacogdoches, Texas where I studied music education and performance. I graduated from college, became a band director, as well as a member of several performing groups. Even though I suffered from chronic illness, for 25 years I had a wonderful career teaching hundreds of wonderful young musicians.

In 2023, I started to slow down. On January 2, 2023, I was getting ready for lunch when my pancreas very clearly told me to stop. I ended up in the hospital in my hometown of Kingwood. It was during this hospital stay when doctors first suggested my pancreatitis was serious enough that some of the best pancreatic surgeons in the world should weigh in. I was referred to the Pancreatic Cancer Center at Baylor University. Through my connections at Baylor, I found my gastroenterologist, Dr. Keihanian. By fostering a cohesive relationship built on communication and trust, I began to get answers, but my prognosis didn’t make sense until we did genetic testing.

In total, it took 17 major surgeries, over 70 procedures, over 300 IVs, and countless doctor’s appointments to get a diagnosis. Like many, if not all CF patients, I had to learn how to effectively communicate with my doctors. I had to relay what goals were important to me. In my opinion, if doctors can treat my symptoms enough so that I can work like I want to and play like I want to, then that is the best outcome I can imagine. 

I also chose relationships over answers. When I see a doctor, I build a relationship first, and then through effective communication, work with them to find an answer. And in searching for answers, I remind myself that sometimes there simply is no answer. Also, I didn’t expect an automatic answer the second I entered the office, but rather allowed time for the doctor to get to know me and my symptoms. I know I sound like a crazy person when I start telling my story! It takes time for doctors to read and digest the 500 pages of charts that come with me to an appointment. 

I would say I have three secret weapons for fighting CF:

• My husband, James, who is a retired band director and clarinetist. He keeps me up and motivated. Being the caretaker of someone with CF is not easy, but he is an amazing advocate and husband.
• My therapist, who has been instrumental in helping me communicate effectively with doctors and loved ones. Every day is challenging when you have CF. Sometimes I want to snap, and that is when my therapist gently reminds me that my doctor is not the problem (and neither is my husband). I truly believe therapy is a wonderful support for CF warriors. 
• My service dog in training, Teddy Bear. After throwing a huge fit because I was in the hospital and missing a big convention last February, I found Teddy. As a novice dog trainer of 18 years, I began working with him so that he can help correct some of my OCD tendencies, as well as bring me my inhalers and phone. While I love that he is working to retrieve, his emotional support is most helpful. Sometimes I just need some snuggles.

I may have stents in my pancreas now and I may struggle to breathe a little more when I perform, but I am always Christina the teacher and French hornist. CF will never take that away from me. 

On November 15, 2025, I will turn 50. I plan to have lots of cake, and while there is a chance you will then see me at the hospital, I bet you will find me practicing for my next concert with Teddy under my chair while James makes dinner.

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