Pump'n (into) My Heart

Hi All!

Am writing this to kill time between squeezing antibiotic out of a syringe, into a tube that goes into my arm, up and around and down to within inches of my heart. Got the good news last Thursday that the "PICC" line will be pulled out next week.

It's been an aggravation, especially trying to keep the tubing coiled up under a cut off sock. Tends to slide down, especially at night, which tugs the line at the hole where it enters and has caused some messy bleeds.

Not that I haven't had any fun with it. One day, a couple of neighborhood urchins came to the door wanting to visit Stan and Ollie, our little black mongrels. I stood on the front steps making small talk when I noticed that their saucer-shaped eyes were fixated on my arm, from which a tube emerged from a blood-soaked gauze patch, down to the huge syringe I was holding in my hand with my thumb on the plunger.

"Oh, this is medicine. I was sick and this is making me all better."

Stunned silence, from which Oscar sheepishly volunteered, "Does it hurt?"

I can imagine them going home and telling their mommies that Mr. Kuettel had a big needle in his arm.

I'm telling you, this system would be a helluva way to self-administer illicit intravenous narcotic potions. No needles, no tracks, just a little hole.

Whilst on the health topic, I heard from the Fairview University Liver Transplant "Team" that my voluminous records had been received and that the appointment for the initial evaluation will come within a month. I'm still hoping they tell me to go home 'cos I'm wasting their time -- in a good way, meaning all those novenas to St Padre Pio are working and I can keep the liver what I was borned with.

What a May it is shaping up to be! End of commitment, end of house arrest, my 49th birthday, our 24th anniversary and my parents' 50th, and a brand spanking new $690 drivers license, if I can pass the written test. Perhaps I'll choose to have it administered in Swahili to make it challenging. I best not get too cocky. With my luck the multiple choice question about how many drinks it takes to go over .08 won't include the answer, "not as many as you think."

The XR4ti is gone, but it's older brother, the luxurious Scorpio will emerge from storage and get the amount of unnaturally obsessive care and adoration, almost sexual in nature, that might get the neighbors to talking. Well, maybe they'll forget about my terrorizing their little boys by shooting up in their presence.

Sorry if some of this was old news. I seldom look back on my past writing and I'll bet alot of readers don't get into the archives, so it's my blog and I'll do what I want, by Jesus!

Cheers!

Bonus material! I've got to start collecting some of the amusing suggestions that the blogger spell checker tries on some of my made-up and/or unconventional words. I deserve it. But really, managerial for mongrel, mummies for mommies, specialties for sheepishly, nubians for novenas?

Kettle for Kuettel? At least the pronunciation is right.