3 Epic Fails to Avoid

3 Epic Fails to Avoid

August 29, 2016 | Posted in: Chronic Life, Enjoyable Nonsense, Parenting and Chronic Illness

My goal today is to ensure you that you are in fact handling your chronic illness and life in general far better than you think you are. As evidence, I’ll introduce to you a horrifyingly embarrassing collection of personal epic fails from the last several weeks. This is how great my love for you is.

I think we’ve talked about this before but now might be a good time to talk about it again. I am not a doctor. And aren’t we all glad? I mean, go ahead and breathe a collective sigh of relief America. We really dodged a bullet on that one. And as a general rule, if I say I do something, you may want to give prayerful consideration to doing the exact opposite.

  1. Setting your PICC line bandage on fire: (or at least melting it real good)

As a general rule, I do little to no cooking because my body is a crybaby and my friends and husband are awesome. Occasionally, I throw a frozen something in the oven but, for the most part, the onus falls on my husband to figure out how we’re all eating.

On this particular day, I decided to be helpful by browning the meat for the spaghetti before he got home from work. Early in the process, my arm (which has the PICC line) felt a little strange, but I ignored it and carried on. A few minutes later, I could have sworn I smelled melting plastic? So, I checked the top of the stove to make sure I hadn’t dropped anything on a burner. Nope! All clear. So I kept on. The smell got worse. It was at this point my brain put the strange feeling in my arm and the smell of melting plastic together and I decided to look down.

I was melting my bandage and stat lock (holds your PICC line in place) with the heat of the electric skillet. There were holes in the plastic of my bandage, and my stat lock looked like a wadded piece of trash. More good news? Hubby and I were scheduled to fly out to Washington DC the next day.

3 Epic Fails to Avoid

This is a reenactment for your reading pleasure.

I had one beautiful, hole covering bandage left. So, I suited up my husband and told him we’d handle this like changing a flat tire. Like the champs we were, we’d just cover the hole-y melted bandage with the shiny new one instead of attempting a complete, unsterile bandage change in our bedroom.

Hubby agreed, studied the bandage with his NASA brain, asked a series of questions I didn’t know the answers to and then proceeded to stick the one and only bandage I had to itself.

So hubby was promptly fired and I went all MacGyver on that PICC line. I dug through all the sterile supplies the home health folks sent (You know, the ones they send for the nurse and not for me?) and discovered some sort of bonding agent. Score! I then cut up a piece of Saran Wrap from the kitchen and used my blow dryer and the mystery-bonding agent to cover up the holes in my bandage underneath.

And the next day on my flight, I sat next to a darling woman who seemed like she may have been suffering from some contagious form of black lung and I prayed that my Saran Wrap would be strong for me.

Yes, my nurses hate me. No, I did not contract any strange diseases or infections.

2. Refusing to shake the hand of the sheriff (?) because you have no bra on

So occasionally, I do my daily infusions sans bra because life is simpler (and better) that way. Such was the case one day this week. The doorbell rang. Now, I’ve been trained, like a Pavlovian dog, to ignore the sound of the doorbell by past experiences. (If you’re up for some heavy reading check out my last experience with the doorbell, here) But, the FedEx man usually drops my IV meds this time of day and runs, so I answered the door. Silly, silly me. Will I never learn?

There I stood, arms crossed over my chest to camouflage my lack of bra in front of a dude running for sheriff, who’d really love my vote and to shake my hand. The thing was, I couldn’t move my arms, without flashing him to some degree. So, I just stood there until I couldn’t stand it anymore and finally started laughing hysterically, mumbled something about, “I bet you would.” And proceeded to close the door in his face.

3 Epic Fails to Avoid

Sorry, Sir!

Seriously. Why do I keep answering the door? My husband’s thoughts on this? “You closed the door on a Gator?”

3. Blowing up the High School restroom during a parent meeting

My stomach and I have a longstanding, ongoing war. Surprise attacks are one of its greatest weapons. The surprise attack/inopportune time combo is one of my stomach’s favorite moves. I should have anticipated it, really. I mean high school restroom auditorium filled with hundreds of students and parents was the perfect set-up to launch its affront. But I was so distracted with a certain squirrely four-year-old of mine that I paid no notice to the first several thousand rumblings in my tummy. It wasn’t until I felt uncertain about my ability to make it the full distance from my seat to the restroom before I had a full on explosion that I knew I’d been had. Let’s just say there was some intense cheek squeezing occurring as I drug my four-year-old behind me to the restroom. You may not have known that my four-year-old is also a professional DJ. She narrates every moment of our lives at an eardrum-bursting volume, especially bathroom moments. And my trip to wreck the restroom was certainly no exception. She was already using her mic/projection/voice to inform the entire auditorium, “Do you have to poop so bad?” before we were actually in the restroom which was lovely not only for me but also for my sixteen-year-old son, I’m sure.

Once we were inside the restroom, things went from bad to worse. The echo inside the stall was like a cruel joke the universe couldn’t help but play on me. My little DJ was bringing her A-game and let’s just say the plumbing at the high school will never, ever be the same.

In the end, I sent my son a shameful series of text messages lamenting my condition and begging him to meet me in the car so I could go home and break the plumbing at our house instead of the school.

It’s a glamorous life I’m living over here, what can I tell you?

3 Epic Fails to Avoid

No restroom pics. You’re welcome.

So what about you? What epic fails have you experienced lately? What tips do you have for me on avoiding future epic failures?

 

 

Feature image courtesy of Pixabay user 

mintchipdesigns

 

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7 Comments

  1. heather
    August 29, 2016

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    ok, we all need this sometimes! as i am typing i am smelling–from across the house and around the corner–my son with ulcerative colitis….. i.e….. house explosions…. so making this story quite apropos at the moment! Been a crappy week—-see blog—but last night the neighbors invited us over for apples to apples and we laughed until way after our kids’ bedtimes, while the kids–6 of them between us–ran around in the dark like crazies! Again, laughter… heals the heart!

    • Stacey Philpot
      August 30, 2016

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      Okay, apples to apples is my favorite ever. And a “crappy” week- I see what you did there 🙂

  2. Heather
    August 29, 2016

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    I just adore that you share so openly and honestly!! Thank you for sharing your laughable moments with us.

  3. Marisa
    August 29, 2016

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    That was hilarious! I totally would have done the same thing to the guy running for sheriff. Thanks for keeping it real. 🙂

  4. Amy
    August 30, 2016

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    Oh my! You’ve had quite a week! Thank you for sharing and making us giggle. 🙂

    • Stacey Philpot
      August 30, 2016

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      Laughter is free therapy, right?

  5. Marla
    October 5, 2016

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    I just read this, and although I’m sorry you were in that situation, reading about your four year old’s narrative along the way made me burst out laughing. —

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