*********************WARNING**********************
THIS IS NOT A HAPPY, FEEL-GOOD POST.
If that's why you come to read my blog, then skip this one. This shit is fah real. I am all out of nice today. Look back a few posts, there are some happy feel-good ones in there...this is not it. And, there will be F-words. No apologies. Happy posts will resume soon.Week 5 of IV antibiotic therapy. The IV nurse calls me to say, "The last 2 nurses who have measured your PICC line have noted that it's moved out by 1-2cm. We'd like you to come in for a chest x-ray to check placement, and if it's in the wrong place we may have to take it out and put a new one in. Is that ok with you?"
...........................................................
(throwing my phone across the room and inventing new swear words, foaming at the mouth, air-stabbing my own ear. My own ear. I don't want to hear this.)
I laugh, a tired, little laugh. My, "this is so far from funny, I'm laughing to stop from crying" laugh. "No, actually, it's not ok. The PICC comes out in five days. It's been in for 37. It's running fine. It hasn't moved any more than it moved a week after placement, the doctor saw it then and said it was good, and, to be completely honest, I think I have had enough x-ray exposure at this point in my life, I feel like I'm glowing. It's not just Paleo. My Superhero Application has finally been approved."
She laughs, this nurse. She has a sense of humor. Six weeks of IV's and life-threatening infections and healing from major surgery is funny. F*ck her. She says, "I understand. I'll talk to the doctor again and see if this x-ray is really necessary. I'll call you back." Don't call me back. I'm not coming in til Monday, when you are removing this ficking PUCC line. Or I'll do it myself. I'm trained. Mad skills up in this bitch.
She didn't call me back.
She understands. She understands shit. Not going back to the hospital for another x-ray. Another complication. Another M Night Shyamalan fucked up plot twist that I give zero shits about. I am so tired. I just want to be ok, I'm so ready to be done with this IV business and begin healing for real this time.
Back to my Superhero Application. It has been approved, and my superhero name is
StaphFire!!!!! Giver of NO FUCKS.
My wonderful and always encouraging mother says, "Lis, you're glowing. You look so healthy!" No, Mom. It's the radiation and chemicals I'm having pumped into my system on the daily. (Beauty Secret #101) StaphFire's superpower is GLOWING with the power of the SUN. And, the power of the zebra bathrobe. Or, the power of Sarcasm.
Someone else says, "You look amazing, especially since I know you have kids. What's your secret?" Well, recently, I've been eating cookies, fruit and yogurt, because when I throw them back up an hour after I inject myself with all of these antibiotics, they still taste alright. And, the probiotics are keeping my immune system from allowing every single winter virus into my body that the kids insist upon bringing home, which, at this point, could be very bad for me. I survived Round 1. Winter is long. We're not thinking about that. We're just enjoying delicious probiotic-filled yogurt, kombucha, and oranges.
A drunk man with a Chevy Silverado couldn't kill me. A massive infection couldn't kill me. Losing 3 units of blood when I gave birth to my 3rd son didn't kill me. And raising these strong-willed, brilliant kids hasn't killed me. I must be stronger. Or, the Last Highlander. I am Irish, after all. That's close. There is no killing me. NOT THIS DAY!
Someone else says, "Well after as many surgeries as you've had, I'm sure your recovery will be a breeze! You're a pro!" Yeah, that lady's dead now. I plead insanity; hers. She doesn't know wtf she's talking about.
"How is your house so clean? You have all these kids AND you're recovering from surgery. Do you have a housekeeper?" Yeah, cuz I'm so rich, with "all these kids." Like they're rats or a scourge. "All these kids" are AMAZING. "All these kids" are my HEARTBEAT. "All these kids" are all the reasons I breathe.
I clean when I'm angry or need to feel in control, which, my desire to feel in control is pretty much all the time...so my FUCKING HOUSE IS ALMOST ALWAYS CLEAN. If you come over and I'm cleaning, just leave. It's safer for all parties involved. I clean until I am a detriment to myself, because now I'm in pain. But my house is clean...it's not so bad, is it? NO. Get out of my clean house. Now I have to clean again. Look what you have done.
"Everything happens for a reason. There must be a reason you're going through this." Yeah. The reason is, I WAS HIT BY A DRUNK DRIVER AT LIKE 70MPH. Human beings are not meant to be hit at those speeds, and live. But I did. So now I have shit wrong with me. I'm coping. I'm pretty amazing. No amount of or lack of praying made this happen or could've prevented it. Life. Happens. We deal, or we don't. THAT. IS. IT. There doesn't always have to be a reason. Sometimes life is really hard, and sometimes it's really good. READY TO APPRECIATE THE GOOD NOW. Thank you, and goodnight.
Retiring to my electric zebra blanket tent. I will reappear in March or April. I haven't decided yet. I'll let you know on Groundhog's Day.
The good news is, (yes, there's always good news, even when I'm trying to just air out some negativity) I've done some major research of these two "harmless" bugs that have threatened my life. I can trace back many of my pain symptoms and autoimmune symptoms to the year I had my hip replaced, which could also be how long these bugs have made a home in my hip joint. Lesson: NO bugs are harmless to someone without some of her God-given parts like a spleen, and to someone with prosthetic hips, neck bones, and arm bones. Gotcha. Being thankful that I'm here to have this duly noted. I'm sure at least some of you reading this are happy to know this, too. ;)
Thank you all for loving me through this, and I do love you right back. And I'm posting the ugly parts of me, because they are what make us all human and what comes out when I am stretched. Sarcastic humor is what I resort to when I am cornered. Sick humor. It does a Lisa good. I will return to my regularly sweetened self who pisses everyone off because I can always see the silver lining, in a few days. In the meantime, gloat away, because the All-Positive Lisa had a rough day.
The PICC line comes out in 2 days. TWO. DAYS. And then I shall dance. :) Stay tuned. And stay classy. I am loving the shit out of this yogurt right now.
