One lovely discovery Sunday evening was the little bouquet of bruises on my tummy from the shots I got there every day. The shot was allegedly a blood-thinner to help avoid deep-vein thrombosis. I don't know if the DVT was likely to happen because I was bed-ridden or because I was on i.v. or what. Anyway. They hurt less than you'd think, believe it or not. Still, not my ideer of a good time. The first time a nurse came at me with one of those and lifted my top, I was thinking "Don't be a baby, suck it up!" but I know I was half way to puckered up and crying, looking up at her with hurt, wounded eyes. In retrospect, it's funny, but I don't like surprises.
Saturday was great for a little bit because my sister and brother both happened to come see me at the same time. That's funny, because the three of us have not been alone together probably in more than 25 years or so. (Brother is a year older than me, sis is 9 younger)
Anyway, my brother has a gift for snarkery. He also has a gift for not giving a rip what anyone thinks of him. This makes for a diabolical combination. He also happens to work in an industry largely populated by unsavories, and he shared some of his off-putting techniques for encouraging the flies to steer clear of him. He liberally peppers conversations with things such as "after all, who among us has not set fire to a public building?" I don't even have to have seen him in action to know he stares wildly when he says these things and never cracks a grin. He also speaks occasionally of moving to live under an overpass and eating cat food.
Some years ago he had a friend who worked at an area State Park who let him go fishing on the lake after hours. One night as he was leaving, he told the park keeper he saw 5 masked youths hanging out near one of the piers, and that they should keep an eye out. He promised to send them a photo he snapped, and later he emailed them a .jpg of 5 baby raccoons who'd been hanging out and begging fishing bait. "Masked youths." I love it.
We were laughing and laughing and the nurse came in to get my vital signs, and I think she thought we were nuts. I suppose we are.
Sis and bro compared techniques on identifying meth-heads, and they discussed the possibility of corraling and exterminating same. I laughed and laughed, feeling a little weak for making any contribution. Bro said that he was going to put his foot down to the step-kids, insisting "if you plan to keep on living over these four tires, you're gonna have to follow a few rules."
Sis brought me banana pudding, which was the most glorious thing I ate all week. Thanks, sis!
It's good to be home and have the doglet nearby. It's also nice to have the option to take a shower without rolling my IV shadow along for the ride. I also know that no one will wake me up for 3:00, 3:45 and 4:30 changing of my i.v.s.
I suppose I'll be back at work before the week is over, but I think it's going to have to be on a very limited basis. I definitely can't walk all over the property, but maybe it'll be enough for me to answer phones and do some paperwork, which I can just feel piling up on me.
I still have a lingering cough and the last of the congestion is working itself out. I wish my ears would clear up, but maybe the doc can do something about the fluid therein when I see her Tuesday or Wednesday.
I swear I won't keep talking about this stuff forever, but one thing about the PICC line was that it was on the inside of my upper arm, and sleeping was always something of an ordeal. I would sleep on one side or another, always using the larger of my two pancakey pillows to bolster the arm so that the line didn't get snagged and tugged. Indeed my arm is all bruised around the area where the feed went in, because once or twice a day, the line would snag on the covers and get sorta ripped away. Trust me when I say that if you get pulled by a line like that, you'll soon follow. Now I know how a fish on a hook feels.
Thanks for all the well-wishes and kind words to those of you who commented and emailed me. It was very encouraging, and no doubt aided in my recovery.