I have a new least favorite pastime. One I never dreamed I’d have to…indulge in. (Can you see me turning green at the very thought?)
But since DH took that trip off his ripstick (skateboard) and shattered his leg, well, I have been given the very dubious task of nursing him back to health.
Ok, maybe not nursing really. But here’s a hint of what I have to do:

Any guesses? Anyone?

Yep, I am now officially responsible for injecting the man I love twice a day. Complications from flying, surgery and immobility have given him a DVT (deep vein thrombosis), and while I’ve been assured it’s easily treatable and was picked up early, I’m still lumped with the task of pricking the man morning and night with blood thinners.

Charming, right?

It’s especially charming when I happen to glance at his face while I’m doing it, and his grimace is almost as bad as the one he wore minutes after breaking his leg. Or when he lets out a muffled “Aargh” as the needle goes in. And you wanna know what’s even worse? The more injections I give him, the more easily he bruises. So right now, he has a lovely line (semi circle) of bruises from one side of his lower stomach to the other.

And now I’m sure you’re gonna ask why on earth I am sharing these gory details with you, because we all know… No one wants to hear about needles and injections. Ever.

Well, dear friends. It’s because I’m selfish. I don’t like suffering in silence. If I have to do something I hate, well, then you have to hear about it.

So now I ask you (if you’ve actually hung around long enough to read this entire blog – which BTW, I never would have) if any of you have a least favorite pastime? Or if any of you have been lumped with hurting someone you love all in the name of medical care? Because if you have, you have my undying admiration and sympathy.

*Big, dramatic, heavy, histrionic sigh*