…and I Looked Good Doing It!

Yeah, people.  I sashayed into the oncology office today wearing my hip new lime green art glass earrings and my kelly green kicks from Landsend.  My outfit was black and charcoal and I wore a big smile on top.  I was there for chemotherapy and I was dressed for the job.  I could tell my attitude and look were controlling the situation: when the receptionist asked to photocopy my insurance card for the second time in two weeks and I refused, she backed down, and I swaggered over to my chair. 

I was seated in my preferred recliner in the far window corner of the treatment area.  My intravenous line was inserted promptly in the vein I designated.  I was offered food and drinks by the staff-it was Smoothie King day.  My medications began to infuse while I sipped my strawberry concoction and knitted a block on my niece’s cotton blanket.  The conversation flowed easily between staff and me, and my trip to see the substitute doc was a pleasure.  I dispensed a little career advice to a nurse that wanted to emulate my choices.  That’s right, baby, I was there to kill B cells and the world was my apple. 

I was the last patient standing.  When my IV bag had emptied of saline and powerful medication, a nurse scurried to my side and removed the line.  I was treated to a bright azure band of elastic wrap tape and a fresh white gauze pad over the infusion site.  The blue complemented my outfit.  Fielding the last questions about my hand-crafted products and my return plans, I bid the staff “Adieu” and sauntered out the door. 

As I drove off into the sunset, I could hear the B cells waning cries for mercy.  Just another day in the life of Super Patient.



3 Responses

  1. You are the man..or make that woman!

  2. Go Girl!!!!

  3. if you refuse to hand over the insurance card do they do a full body search? When Homeland Security hears about you – I’ll be there with popcorn.

    I have on my hospital ID band right now, which I got when they handed me back my insurance card and my driver’s license – for which she had a special copier that got both sides at once! It feels like a badge of courage, even though I’m hiding it under my sleeve.

    The sweet and not-young lady who punctured my vein did such a * Painless * job, that I had to compliment her and thank her for working what I was assuming was a long time at her job. She kind of blushed while admitting she had just started in May! O My Gosh, I told her she was born for the job!! She put such a honker bandaid on it that I can’t see if there’s a bruise, but I’m guessing there isn’t going to be one.

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