Turning Corners
I’m listening to a Brazilian song that lists all of the things the singer expects to have ready and waiting because she’s coming home soon. I’ve been hearing that “the healing process will occur when your counts come up” and though we’re not quite there yet, all signs point to the fact that actually means something and isn’t bullshit being spewed by doctors so I don’t grab the suction tube next to me and use it as a weapon.
Now why would I want to hurt these nice people? I’m afraid if you want to learn any more we’ll end up firmly in TMI/TFN territory. Oh sure, I’ve ventured into Too Much Information, but have I really hit That’s Fucking Nasty yet? Well if not, I’m about to. Brace yourselves.
Cancer has taught me much about indignity. Any serious medical condition likely would. Still it is hard to imagine another that requires weekly swabs of my nostrils and my ass crack. At least they don’t use the same swab, right?
Then came the realization that I needed to start wearing Depends. I’m wearing Depends right now and feel very secure, thank you. When you’re coughing up untold globules of excessively thick and possibly bloody saliva, you tend to focus on choking prevention. Losing control of another bodily function during such an episode is to be expected. And then in the heat of the moment, sharting happens.
I’ll give you a second to deal with that. I’m well past it. It’s worse not knowing that it’s even happened until the next time to go to the bathroom and notice something is there that wasn’t before. Those surprises occur during episodes of clearing saliva so thick it really could choke me, And there is a lot of it, built up over hours. I try to spit out and cough up as much as possible, but I wouldn’t be here writing this if not for the suction. It’s just like the one at your dentist’s, and it sucks up lots of that precious bodily fluid I could do with a lot less of.
The saliva is thick and the suction tube needs to be cleaned by thrusting it quickly into a bottle of saline water and handed back to me in time to get the next round. I’ve done many of these alone, but now I always call a nurse in to help me with suction and remind me to breathe and stuff like that.
The final straw was in the wee hours of Halloween morning when, after a long day of sleeping and purging, I settled in for some respite from the freak show when I noticed the room was filling up with vapor. I sat up, looking around the room for a possible culprit but seeing none. I smelled nothing so I didn’t deem it to be fire. I hit the HELP button to ring the nurse’s station and told them I was afraid something had sprung a leak.
After a quick investigation revealed no equipment failure, we started troubleshooting. The nurse remembered that one of my medications’ side effects could be visual hallucinations.
So after all that TBI, it turns out my superpower was not to be telekinesis, as I’d so fervently hoped for so long. No, it was to hallucinate making the room fill with vapor. Which you can only see when it's dark. Oh, wait. Only I can. OK, that’s great. And counts are up. Swell.
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