It’s probably a good thing that my dream of being a bomb tech was never realized. I am too much a spaz with a tendency towards ridiculously bad luck. Being a logical person, I know I shouldn’t believe in luck, but sometimes the statistical improbabilities pile up and you are left with no reasonable explanation.
Last night was further evidence of it.
I had just changed my infusion set and stuck it in the meat of my thigh because my stomach is too sore. However, the alarm kept going off saying it was blocked so I got up to change it out again (once before the leader needle had cut a nice chunk of me like biscuit dough and it blocked up the line).
That wasn’t the problem.
Apparently I hit an artery. Now there aren’t supposed to be any there, and definitely not that close to the surface (the needle doesn’t go much further than a push pin would, but if far thinner). But, the disaster that followed when I pulled out the set definitely says “artery.” No doubt in my mind.
I screamed for my husband to come help me. He? Thought I was screaming about toilet paper and proceeded to take his time searching the house. After all, if I’m just waiting for TP, there’s no rush. Meanwhile, I’m trying to apply pressure with baby wipes because…well…he’s right. There were no paper products.
He walked in, finally. “Oh, my God. What did you do?!?”
Obviously, I’m fine and alive this morning. A bit purple and uncomfortable, but fine.
Except, I’m still a spaz.