It transpires that the same man who dressed up as Terrifying Clown with Accordion at Christmastime, gracing the infusion center with his ill-received musical presence, dresses up as a folk singer in the spring, and plays a ukelele and harmonica. Guys, if you've never had a couple of IVs stuck in your arms while watching someone in plaid and suspenders ukelele/harmonica their heart out, congratulations. I wish you godspeed in keeping it that way.
I went to my infusion alone yesterday. (All the better, as anyone who came with me would have had to endure the above musical stylings, as well as three popped IV sites in a row and a geyser of blood that almost made me cry out, "He has risen!" I probably would have been shot had I done so, not adding positively to my health situation in the least.) I have a lot to think about, and sitting in a chemo chair with chemicals running up your arm, albeit vaguely unpleasant, is pretty much the ideal time to do your thinking.
But I didn't get to it: chatty neighbors, beeping IVs, other people getting their ports disinfected, the snoring of patients on pain drugs, a couple of people playing "I Spy." (Really? REALLY? How depressing is THAT to play in the hospital? One thing spied was my blood geyser. Happy to play.) One thing I do like about infusion days is their sort of day-off feeling, too tired afterward to work or think. It's just too bad the rest of the world doesn't see it that way.
After a refreshing sixteen-hour sleep last night (there's nothing like a good Tysabri infusion to make you feel like you've accidentally died on your own watch) I awoke to discover that my joke of sending a first draft in to a literary contest (don't ever send a first draft in to anything; it's just not good judgment) resulted in the selection of my story about neck-tattoos-in-the-form-of-layer-cakes as a finalist from among thousands of other entries. What does this mean? It means:
a) Reminder: Never send first drafts into contests.
b) Absolutely nothing whatsoever, as usual.
and finally,
c) I knew it! People are interested in reading about neck tattoos in the form of layer cakes!
Someday, my point of view about baked goods will prevail, Crohns. I just know it.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 comments:
is this for real? have you really written a story about neck tattoos that are layer cakes?
off the charts.
jamie
you must know how your musical clown tainted infusion experiences have colored me green. how frighteningly inspiring. i would spend the entire infusion worrying that he would come near and interact with me, causing various needles to spring from my veins and being a Volta on his rubbery red nose.
speaking of, kara, i'm not a fan of your veins. not cool not cool not cool. amusing, for the onlooker, certainly, but not cool. i'm sure the geyser was the doing of those vagrant nurses, but still; what happened to mail order?
additionally, you are entirely awesome and your successful cake tattoo story makes my smile muscles hurt.
jamie: this is for real. my apologies in advance.
raga: dude came NEAR. my friend helene, who was with me, fended him off with an evil eye.
i am also not a fan of my veins. turns out that it's all good to get your amazon. com mail order of extras, but then they charge you additional to install. damned fine print.
this sounds beyond awesome, and please tell us when we can read it.
i hate IVs.
Post a Comment