67. Further Assimilation

The body sends out a liquid response to healing, and at first, it is a large quantity, and so it is helped to the outside by a long flexible straw that goes into a four inch collection bubble pinned to the gown. What a fashion statement!

If I had the where with all, if only my body would have acted when my mind told it back then (damn paralysis), you would have a picture of my next stage assimilation into the Borg!   I am not really a Star Trek fan, but it’s the analogy of a lifetime.

The port is always in my chest, but it is rarely “accessed”.  Accessed means that there is a plug in the plug in.  A small tube is there, and blood can be drawn, or IV fluids linked to the line.  Before the surgery, the port was accessed, tube one.

I had IV’s, yep, not one, two.  Why?  Someone knows, but it is not me.  The port really should have done the full trick.  But I had an IV on my right arm in the bend.  They are always in the worst place.  Why the bend, where you can feel the needle with every motion?  I had an IV once that was mid arm, no pinching, no long term resentment from my hand.  Why not there?

Left hand, another IV.  Hand. Oh dear.  The hole is a scab about 3/16 of an inch in size.  My hand is not going to forget that one soon.  

Oxygen happened.  The tubes aren’t invasive, but they do come up to the nostrils and deliver that “wired in look”.

Then going lower, the first couple of days I didn’t need to get out of bed to use the toilet.  That is an incredible blessing.  Another tube, from my urethra to the box.

And a drain.  The main wound had a drain.  The body sends out a liquid response to healing, and at first, it is a large quantity, and so it is helped to the outside by a long flexible straw that goes into a four inch collection bubble pinned to the gown.  What a fashion statement!  When that came out, the nurse asked if I wanted to see.  There was at least a foot of tube that had been working inside.  Incredible.  And once out, the skin closed, and the reality of the work of the body went back into hiding. That is as much Borg as I ever want to be. Assimilated.  Done.

Author: Michele Plumb Stowell

Michele Stowell was a teacher, a hand holder, and encouraging voice. Born an early Gen Xer, she has lived in Western Washington for the duration. Her children, two spectacular genetic daughters and an uncountable number of marvelous scout and school sons and daughters, shine as her biggest impact and her greatest blessing. Just before her 54th birthday, Michele was diagnosed with stage four cancer. Her writing and art work are expressions of the drama and the joy of living earth bound. On October 24, 2021, Michele was released from her physical body, transported to continue her work on other realms.

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