Wednesday, March 18, 2015

Earning a Brownie

Throughout our 6+ years of on-again, off-again treatments, we were introduced to various methods of injecting the cocktail du jour.  From gamma radiation to port-accessed chemotherapy drips, we explored many (and no way near all) avenues to administer the goods.

One drug, in particular, required two syringes, a thick syrupy substance that filled said syringes, and Jill's "hips."

At least that's what the medical professionals want you to believe...until the moment of truth.

"Jill, because we have to inject this in your hips, we're going to give you a private room today to administer the shots."

That's right.  Plural.  Shots.

But, because this med has a tendency to burn as it goes in, the nursing staff doubles up and they inject it into both "hips" at the same time.

Double the burn in half the time.  (It's like a fucking infomercial tagline for something no one anything being sold via infomercial.)

So we roll into our special, private room.  We're a bit apprehensive, which is often the case when Jill and Jason are entering an(other) unknown.

Jill's instructed to lie on the hospital bed on her stomach and roll her pants down just enough for the nursing duo to access her "hips."

As they begin to sterilize the areas for injection, we notice it ain't her hips.  These needles are going in her ass.  Well, not in her ass...but on the outer sides of her the same time.

And it's going to burn.

And it's going to be slow.

Oh, and she has to be very still.  Which means - damn it, DAMN IT - I can't make her laugh.

But, that's what I do.  That's what I have to do.  That's what helps her.  That's what helps me.  That's what diffuses the intensity that is often packaged with a team of medical professionals wielding needles and pointing them at your ass.

Nope.  No funny.

Be calm.  Be serious.  Be still.

So I was.  We were.

The simultaneous injections commenced and immediately I could see the discomfort in Jilly's face.  Propped on her forearms, face forward, Jill's breathing was very even, focused, and intense.

The injections were very slow, but sometimes not slow enough.

"Can you please go a bit slower on this side?" Jill'd politely exhale to nurse Speed Racer.

This ain't a race, fuck face, I'd think to myself.

 Jill needed to prolong the burn to withstand the burn.

What a fucking situation to find ourselves in.

We're halfway thru her first round of this double trouble when Jill says to me, "I've so earned a brownie when this is over."

Two things here...

  1. Those of us in this private room have been doing nothing but stare at Jilly's ass for the past five minutes while this cocktail is injected.  The only person not visually familiar w/ Jilly's ass at this moment is Jilly.
  2. I'm not permitted to 'crack' a joke, make a funny, or do anything that may make Jilly move during this procedure.  
Now, I don't know what goes thru the nursing team when they hear Jill utter this line.  I only know what goes thru my six year old little boy brain.  The last thing I want to eat after something like this procedure is anything that resembles shit.  A brownie, for instance...

Poop humor.  Cheap, but often effective.

And I can't say it...because I know it will yield a solid chuckle from Jilly.  

So, I have to hold it.  I have to hold onto it until the syringes are empty and the pants are up and hope that with a delayed response the staring-at-ass-brownie-looks-like-poop line will still warrant an audible laugh from my target audience.  

I mean, this is it.  I live for the laugh.  For Jill's laugh.

As soon as pants are buttoned, I spit out the line.  

Laughs and eye rolls all around at the 30-something's potty humor.  Well played, dip shit.

We packed up, paid the parking attendant, and put Siteman in the rearview for another day...

...and headed straight to Whole Foods...where Jill got her brownie...with a fucking smile.

All love,

J, J & r
Jill after one such treatment

No comments:

Post a Comment