Broken Robot with Fishnet Stockings

Fishnet stockings is the last thing I expected to get out of this ordeal. The only problem is they are not on my legs and I am not at a bar with my high heels on (not like I ever go to bars but the song sort of fits the situation!). The woozy feeling comes from an anesthetic and the white fishnet mesh covers my new midline.

"If you come back with these on your feet we have a problem!"

I have to laugh at the IV tech's jokes. Under the cover of my skin my veins have been playing hide-and-seek with IV needles that have missed them one too many times. After three nurses tried five times to insert an IV needle last Thursday I was asked to get a PICC line.  Something in me fears a foreign object right next to my heart.  I chicken out and ask for a midline. Local anesthesia knocks me for a loop which takes seven hours in bed to untangle.

In an effort to wake up my brain I slowly meander to the hotel lobby. Talking to someone will surely help my anesthetic stupor. As I pour hot water over herbal tea a woman in her early thirties approaches. Soon I find out she has come from California to hear Dr. Sponaugle's biweekly lecture to make sure this is the right place for her. She has seen a number of the big name LLMDs with no success. She lost her job due to Lyme three years ago and has been ill her whole life. I hold the "You look great!" The beauty of her face perfectly matches her soft manners and posture. I know the theatrics I go through every day pretending I am well and she has done the same. We have to get through this somehow.

I share my milestones with her. Restful weekend brought much needed relief from the side effects of my IV medications. Last night I was able to read a page in a book and not lose my train of thought for the first time since August. Long awaited progress I hang onto with all of my strength. As I start another week of Alpha Lipoic Acid IVs I know I will not feel well from all the toxins circulating in my body but I am looking forward to the process.

After much tossing and turning I finally find a position that gives me couple hours of sleep. Resting on my left side and hugging a pillow with my right hand somehow makes the midline tolerable.

As the raindrops in a shower run down my body I decide that today everybody will have to deal with the fact that I am half dirty.  The wound protector from Walgreens is doing a great job protecting and it is also making me feel like a lopsided robot with a broken motherboard. My interrupted braincells, further slowed down by a sleepless night, are not catching up with the restrictions my midline is placing on my body. Today wet equals clean, tomorrow is another day.

I am struggling already and I have not even had my IV. My tingling and numb hands remind me the medication is working. Even though my oxygen is 99 I feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest. The air hunger is so bad that I have to walk around. Toxins are partying hard. They are joined by more gunk the IV is pushing out of my nervous system. Another patient gives me a ride to the lab and then to the hotel. My bed is the only suitable place for me right now. Around 7pm I am finally able to get up and slowly start getting around. Soon I am ready for bed again. I pull up the fishnet stocking on my right arm to keep my midline safe while I sleep. Hoping for a better night my eyes close with visions of my liver and my kidneys mopping up the toxin mess splattered all over my veins. Tomorrow is another day.