I Pulled Out My Own Infiltrated IV Today. You Can Clap Now.

I pulled out my own infiltrated IV today.

IV3

I forgot to turn the water off when pulling out my own infiltrated IV today.

IV2

I made a bit of a mess, but I’m one step closer to self-sufficiency come the zombie apocalypse after pulling out my own infiltrated IV today.

IV1

My arms look like someone tried to knit a sweater on them. They really need a break from the 2-3 IV’s a week thing, and I guess they’re going to get it because guess what the clinic told me last Friday when I was there? They were getting my bag of saline out of their crash cart because there were no more left.

BECAUSE THERE IS A SALINE SHORTAGE. (See news article.)

Can someone please, for the love god, explain to me how we run low on plastic bags, salt and water. Someone? Anyone?

You’re all just fucking with me aren’t you?

I guess it’s okay. I think my arms really need a break anyways.

I’ve been experiencing a lot of independent moments lately.

Like yesterday…

I changed a high-up lightbulb by myself, so I told R.J we could call off the engagement.

But then, if we ever move out of this apartment I guess I might need his help with some things.

*These were not at all taken from a dramatic angle.

*These were not at all taken from a dramatic angle.

After all, the only way I can operate in this apartment is by having a step-stool in every room. They didn’t build this place for people of my stature. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen the inside of my dryer.

Do I have the weirdest laundry room you've ever seen in Florida or what?

Do I have the weirdest laundry room you’ve ever seen in Florida or what?

R.J is a ridiculous 6’2, a full foot taller than me and our bodily differences are obvious in a lot of situations.

Besides the kitchen cabinets I can’t reach and the fact that my shower head basically only reaches his shins, we’re always fighting over the way the drivers seat is supposed to be adjusted. For me it’s leaned all the way back so my boobs can also come along for the ride, and then the seat is dragged all the way up so my short legs can reach the pedals.

On your basic Monday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday afternoons you’ll find R.J running his warm-up 5K before hitting the boxing ring. I might be sleeping. I am most definitely sleeping.

My mattress is a marshmallow, his is a rock.

I don’t know where I was going with this, except to show off my incredible manliness this week. I guess the whole being short, sleeping on a marshmallow thing kind of puts me back at square one though, huh?

 

Comments

comments

  • Viv Jones

    I also have CVID and can appreciate your medical experiences. But your relationship stories are hilarious and sweet and somehow sort of romantic! .I love your posts! You have me hooked!

  • Stephanie Powers

    You’ve got to take those little victories where you can find them! Applause, applause.

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