Late at night, when the house is dark and quiet, and the moonlight filters into the bedroom, is what I call "Wondering Time". I bet all of you have a "Wondering Time" too. This is when I let my mind reflect and wonder. I wonder THIS about THAT, or THAT about THIS, or THIS AND THAT about something else. So last night, under the striped moonlight shining through the blinds, I was wondering why it is that, of all the procedures that Flo requires of me, The Dreaded Dressing Change produces the most anxiety. This anxiety is the palpable variety. The kind that has it's own volume and weight. The kind that has the ability to not only curl your toes backwards, but also transform any hairstyle into the electrified look. Of course, I can't actually DO this Dreaded Dressing Change myself yet, due to Picc Line Prohibitions. BUT the people doing them FOR me actually LOVE me. They're careful and fastidious. They would NOT hurt me, yank out my picc line, or spit on my catheter site. So why! is it that every time we do this, I find myself fighting off the desire to consume a half a bottle of Xanax? Even Flo doesn't get it. She just sits there during the whole procedure, calmly counting her milliliters, then delivering them in a timely manner, as if nothing were happening around her. If you have the answer to this, please put it in Flo's Suggestion Box. You'll find it in the ice box. Flo says she likes to do her reading in there, which might answer the age old question about whether the light in the refrigerator goes out when you shut the door.
It will not be long before I have my degree in Bubble-ology. Every day I learn something new about bubbles. I wouldn't bother to study this air-head subject except for Flo being a 7-Upaholic. I have now learned that "champaign bubbles" are OK. "Pea size bubbles" are NOT OK. Another thing I've learned is how to remedy the NOT OK bubbles. It's done by a complicated and patented method called "Flicking". Did you know, if you Flick a large bubble, it will turn into several "champaign bubbles", which are, of course, on the OK list. So, at any given time, I can be found Flicking bubbles right through Flo's tubing. Why she twitches when I do this, I do not know. But I always remind her that my practicing this technique means she can now enjoy "champaign taste on a 7UP pocketbook".
And speaking of bubbles, I have to say that I believe something needs to be said about The Filter, you know, the one in Flo's tubing. In my opinion, The Filter is one of Flo's unsung heroes. She doesn't really mention him much, so I will. What would I do without this quiet, yet diligent, little bubble catcher? Not only does he ROUND things out for Flo, but did you know that he has the reputation for being able to catch an ENTIRE LINE OF BUBBLES? Now, I personally, really appreciate this, as does my entire circulatory system. And this appreciation gives me one more reason to like practicing the Flicking Technique, for without even asking him, I believe we can rest assured he prefers catching the "champaign bubbles". Don't you think? Normally I would refer someone like him to AA, but since he doesn't drive, and only has a lifespan of three days, I don't suppose it would be worth it.
Did you know that all Nanograms are NOT created equal? I learned this first hand. I thought I knew nanograms pretty well by now, and knew what to expect when meeting up with a new one, but Nanogram #8 is like none of her predecessors. She was tricky too, and at first tried to imitate the others, but could only keep up pretenses for the first 24 hours. After that, she showed her true self to Flo and me! Here I was, having just bragged to Headquarters about how little the Side Effects were playing at my house, and WHAM, I was hit with the worst case of flu-like symptoms in recorded history. I looked so puny that Flo put in an emergency order for a case of Tylenol. What annoys me the most is IT'S NOT THE FLU, just a tragic imitation. So, it makes sense to me that the next time I go to the specialist, I should demand they give me an Imitation Flu Shot.
The thing about Flo's recipe is that it changes from week to week, so you HAVE to keep checking the cookbook. Each week either the POWDER PORTIONS increase, OR her pump rate is increased, BUT the fluid ALWAYS stays the same, 100 ml, no matter what. Somehow each small recipe change magically increases the number of nanograms out to ruin your life for the next 24 hours. Flo insists that it's a fair and reasonable trade. "Look what I'm DOING for you", she insists. And then she reminds me of how the OTHER six days of the week keep getting better and better. I finally agree. But then she has a complaint of her own, "Look at it from MY perspective," she said, "Every time you add powder to my recipe, YOU feel better, but no matter how much powder you add, I'M STILL RETAINING FLUID!" How could I argue?
Earlier this week, just before Nanogram #8 exposed me to her flu-like virus, Flo and I did something extremely unusual. We took a trip to the GROCERY STORE! She sat humming in the front basket while I merrily wheeled it around. I was hoping this would be an exciting event for her, even one that would help her understand MY world a little better. But instead, she used her most sarcastic voice when she asked "What ARE you LOOKING at?" "Oh, just some old memories", said I, with a most nostalgic smile on my face. "You see, I haven't been here in a very long time, and it once was one of my favorite places to hang out". Gosh, I had forgotten how colorful the produce looked. And how scrumptious the bakery smelled. And how HIGH THE PRICES HAD BECOME! Flo could see how agitated I was getting, and suggested that I not stay away from the grocery store for so long again, so I could adjust to the price increases more gradually. "And BESIDES that", she said, "you need to get out more A! NYWAY. You NEED the exercise. You are looking very FAT." WELL!! She had ruffled my feathers enough! So I replied, "That's NOT fat, Flo. For you see, no matter how hard YOU work, I'M STILL RETAINING FLUID!"