Clots R Us

Just when you think things are getting back to normal, there always seems to be something to throw off your game. A normal day for us is to get up, clean up the midnight cat yak (someone ALWAYS yaks during the night—5 cats, 4 long-haired, they groom each other, ya know where I'm goin' with this...). Since I've come home from the hospital, things have slowly progressed to normal, I can now sleep to 6:30A, I can eat something besides Cream of Wheat (Tuna Helper is my friend), still can't do soda (THAT is 6 weeks and counting without Code Red, another two weeks and they'll have to lock me up), and I am getting used to that whop that liquid hydrocodone packs. In fact, I thought to myself on Monday, "Self, I think you can now do without momma's little helper, you're doing pretty good." Well, nothing like a self-righteous statement to give you a little kick in the patootie. I wake up Tuesday morning, start working on my computer and think, "wow, my left elbow hurts, I wonder what I hit it on?" As the day wore on it started hurting more like a toothache in my arm. Still, I'm a pretty clumsy ditz, so I figured I had clocked it somewhere along the way and didn't think much more of it until I went to bed. By then, it hurt for my clothing to touch it, and needless to say, there is no comfortable way to sleep in bed when the inside of your elbow hurts except for flat on your back with your arm up in a swastika move on a pillow. By Wed. AM, me and momma's little helper are connected at the hip and I called the Doctor. As if I hadn't had enough of that this month. Upshot is, one "venous doplar" later and I have two blood clots in my left arm. Who knew they hurt? Dang, it's a real buzz kill. I need a slave to carry my arm around for me. Just the weight of it stretching those poor little veins is enough to drive me to drink Code Red. So, now we get to add another pill to the cadre of medication. I have officially eclipsed my Mom on the number of pills taken together at one time, which I thought was a complete impossibility (she has Rhuematoid Arthritis among a host of other things—Lord lover her, she's a trooper). So, my arm now comes with instructions, "don't rub it, don't put heat on it (but it hurts mamma, please?), just don't use it unless you have to." Duh. Run that one by me again. Don't use it... Nothing like an IV to give you a few blood clots. And just when I thought all the real fun was over...