27 July 2008

"Amanda, please stop posting gross pictures to your blog." "NO! I WON'T STOP!"

Well, today, Day 8 (for appearances, not much different than Day 7), is the last that I have to do my antibiotic IVs. It's really too bad, you know? Because I have been getting accustomed to not showering (What? I have to keep it dry!), and also smelling like the medicine that's pulsing through my veins right now. I sweat antibiotic, I bleed antibiotic, I pee antibiotic. I smell it, I smell like it: I am the antibiotic. And although they may not sell this kind of perfume at the department store, it's not a bad smell. Just medicinal.

Despite the antibiotic capably conquering all of my bodily functions, it has not yet fully conquered the infection, which is STILL THERE. Especially in this 1 square milliliter area. I don't know how it has survived all this time. It must be very, very deep. Actually, I know because I can see that it's very, very deep. I can even stick the Q-Tip head inside of my face when I'm cleaning it out because there's a hole now that goes




to the tissue. Such is the nature of cellulitis. I guess I'm thankful for plastic surgeons? And yet at the same time, it's getting difficult to imagine what life was like without this facial laceration. And I'm not sure I would want to go back. Ok, that's a bit extreme. It's just that I've adjusted. Sort of. You know, I have accepted it, adopted it, assimilated it--and it's become a part of me. If that goes away, then something about me--something fundamentally me--also leaves. Is that what I really want?

The best part about today was that my church is from 9-12, and since I have to shoot myself up with drugs every 12 hours, I toted all of my supplies to do the IV during church. (I was due at ten o'clock.) All of the people in Sunday school thought there was a druggie in their mist. And then Brother Daniels, in the bishopric, tried to shake my right hand which was holding my spaceball antibiotic at the time, and the truth was revealed. Not to mention that David, who sat next to me in sacrament meeting, told me it was kind of hot when I was having him help me hook up. Which did not make me feel uncomfortable at all, strangely. Some people would be embarrassed by administering medication during church, but I'm ok with people thinking that I'm a heroin addict. In fact, I sort of enjoy that.


rachel b. said...

Since you have adopted/assimilated this new facial feature, I vote that it deserves a name. I was thinking Humbert. But obviously, as its mother, you get the last say in naming rights. (Humbert, Humbert)

Tim said...

Hey! Now it will be that much easier for people to accept you when you actually become a heroin addict.

Bakes. said...

hahahaha. ok, first of all, i feel SO good about the name Humbert. please pick it. please. also, i think it's hilarious that you are pretending to be a heroin addict during church. hahaha.

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