Last Thursday I got a PICC line so I can do home IV antibiotics [again].

A student was placing the line, and the supervising guy was insufferable.  I was uncomfortably lying on the metal table, trying to relax, as he announced, “Now’s your time to shine. Show us what you’ve got!” That didn’t instill a lot of faith in me.

When he wasn’t painfully singing every seventh word of whatever Bruno Mars song was playing, he was chiming in with gems like, “Tricky, tricky,” which I can only imagine psyched the student out.

Don’t read this paragraph if you’re squeamish! During PICC placement, they look for a juicy vein in the upper arm. Using a gigantic needle, they get inside the vein, then begin feeding a wire through the needle and into your vein. They basically feed the wire through until they can see it in your chest using a portable X-ray. It took the student multiple attempts, and I’ve got the bruises to prove it.

Right now the plan is to do a 14-day course of IV antibiotics prior to my heart procedure, which has been rescheduled for June 22. UnitedHealthcare initially denied the procedure (What? That’s so unlike them. *sarcasm*), but they have since changed their mind.

I’m trying to stay optimistic, but this latest infection has been brutal. Simple things, like talking and laughing (my favorites!), trigger coughing attacks, so I’m not up to doing much. Plus, I’m using supplemental oxygen most of the day, so I’m in a serious relationship with the couch.

Earlier today, after a long coughing spell, I delighted in the moment when I could breathe again. I paused to take in the silence—the nonlabored breathing. It’s wild that something as natural as breathing felt like a true miracle.

I’m hopeful that many more respites are on the way.