Archive of ‘hubber needle’ category

Fall

Fallen leaves scattered over the pavement is a rare sight in Victoria. Often the winters are so mild that the deciduous leaves are still on the trees in February, and once dropped, are quickly replaced by buds. Most of the leafy trees in the area are bare, because we have had quite a lot of fierce rain and wind, roughly knocking and shaking them off the tree, as if the elements are playing some sort of childish game.

Before my needle change today, we went to school to pick up my yearbook. I’m only a 1/3 of a year late, but no matter. I was very excited to see our grad and baby pictures, read the comments and laugh over the inside jokes and nicknames and memories. I have read many years of grad comments, but without really knowing the people all that well. It means more when you’ve known the people for 7 years. A big change. I said hello to the lovely lovely office staff, and our headmaster briefly. The office is a very busy center, situated between the library, main corridor and the freedom of the outdoors. It is strange that my friends baby brothers and sisters are now seniors, sweating through their full IB work, and are taller than me, or their siblings! I miss them all very much. 🙁

Had my port needle changed, which was jolly good fun *rolls eyes*. Unfortunately, it has to be done every week which is irritating. I scar and bruise very easily, because I am so ‘fair skinned’ and because of the Lyme. There are nice little lumps of scar tissue over the port, which are quite uncomfortable when a fresh needle is poked through them. Doing IV twice a day doesn’t exactly help to alleviate the discomfort. I wouldn’t mind doing it quite as much if it didn’t taste bad and was very caustic going in. But then, if it wasn’t doing much good, there would be no point of doing it. NO one likes doing medication. Obviously. I like the kind of infection that can be cleared up with a few days to a weeks worth of antibiotics. Alas. I am very tired now.

Plying

I have been continuing to spin with the drop spindle which is so much fun. I have just finished my first few meters 2 ply wool in a nice heather gray color, which is about as thick as a water-sodden shishkebab stick.

It was very hard work, and I had to take several break while spinning, but listening to the epic Beowulf definitely spurred me on. Its one of my personal favorite, and every time I read it or listen to it, I can scarcely believe that is was written so long ago, and isn’t just a modern poem/short-story. I especially enjoy the epic battle with Grendel, and how he’s all…”well, Grendel doesn’t use weapons, so neither will I! I am just that tough! I have the strength of 30 men in my grip. Rawr!”. Total epic. All the power to you, Mr B-Wulf.

I think that Grendel is a good, solid name for a fat cat, don’t you?

Evenin’

You know, life is very exciting when you do nothing. When there is nothing, I find, that I suddenly notice so much more about the so-called ‘nothing’ than before. A ceiling has so many little dots, blimp and swirls. The way a chair always leans a little to one side, like its tired of being squished. The whoosh of an air vent, and the way dust clings to it in twisting strands. The sound of a room breathing; the cracks and creaks of it, like the sterile stomach of a living beast. A tense smell. The tang of MicroScan. Dust in the corners of a room, hiding from the broad sweeps of a plastic broom. Such things are nothing when you have something to do, but I find are actually quite fascinating when you are just waiting.

The stupid MePore (sp?) – a kind of clear dressing – doesn’t stick to my skin. In fact, I believe that it repels my skin with astonishing force. Why, only a day after it was put on, it was peeling up away from my skin, inching itself to the outer edges of the bandage and freedom. Of course this is all well and good for it, but rather unfortunate for the 1/2 needle in my port. It loves the sickening sharpness of CholoraPrep and nitrile gloves. Even taping all of the sides down more securely didn’t keep the dressing on, so a few days later we were back in ER, getting it changed again! How annoying!!! Anyway, tonight it wasn’t too bad, and we were out of there in like, 2 hours, which isn’t bad. Hell, you can wait that long in a doctors office, reading bad, out-of-date magazines no one cares about.

I am really really zonked today. Everything is infinitely worse when you are tired. I fainted and fell out of my chair on the way to the bathroom, and fell in a way that my chest hit the ground, my bodyweight pushing the needle and port deeper into me. A little uncomfortable, to say the least. Haahaa. It’s kinda throbbing, deep down inside, in a way I don’t like. It isn’t helped by the cold IV ball I am currently infusing with.

Oh well. At least in a few days it will be out for a little longer. A respite! At last, a shower!

“We can’t solve problems by using the same kind of thinking we used when we created them.”

~ Albert Einstein 

California.

It is sort of nice being home. Familiar, and it makes the ‘stuff’ a little more tolerable.
I saw a lot of the people I used to know, which was amazing! They are all so different, taller, older, its wonderful! It makes me feel a little more normal to just be able to hang out with old friends, and just relax.

I went to see the doctor the other day, which really wasn’t so bad. Most of the Lyme doctors just talk about the symptoms, rather than poke and prod very much, for which of course I am very grateful. They did, however, ‘access’ my port for the first time, which wasn’t quite as fun as I thought it would be *rolls eyes*. Its not that it hurt, because really there was very little ‘true’ pain associated with it. Even the stitches don’t hurt, but then again I am on hella strong meds, so that might have something to do with it.

Anyways, I didn’t watch them put it in, put the feeling was rather bizarre. The port under your skin must be sort of pinched/pushed in a very unnatural way which is very uncomfortable.

I went to the bathroom after, and cried a little, for my life, I guess. The thought of having a needle in my chest was just overwhelmingly awful. And the thought that I will have a needle in my chest, everyday, changed every week, indefinitely, scared the shit out of me, and I wanted to give up right then and there. But that sort of weakness is temporary, the kind that just knocks the knees out from under you for a moment, and brings your heart rate right up.

Of course I am way over that by now. I do not permit myself such displays of weakness often, because my greatest healing power is in my optimism. But I have a touch of the ‘realism’ in me, which wacks its hard, steely reality into me every now and again.

Everything, when it is fresh, and you are alone to ponder it, seems a million times worse. That is a darkness I fear most.

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