IV Pole Dancing

My goodness...how time flies when you're having fun...or in the hospital!

This time y'all I have a really good explanation for being absent for so long...with a signed doctor's excuse no less.

For those of y'all who don't follow me on Face Book, I have been a very, very sick girl.  My original plan was to give y'all a step by step account of my recent stay at the Hotel de Baylor, but then I asked myself, "Self...would you really want to hear a full recount of a bout of diverticulitis?" The answer of course was not just no, but heck no!

Instead I thought I'd share a few things I learned.

With your kind permission, there is one thing I'd like to mention first though.  Don't expect the doctors to believe you if you inform them you don't have an appendix.  Kinda like a unicorn or the elusive Big Foot, they gotta look for themselves to prove scientifically it doesn't exist...just to be on the safe side.  After all...that's what they get paid the big bucks for isn't it?

BTW...I'm expecting my 8x10 glossies of that first CT scan they ordered to arrive in the mail just any day now!

Now on to the Talking Trash School of Hospital Dance lessons!





Texas Two Step Via


1. When doing the Mambo with an IV pole, it's always best to let it lead. Trust me, it's gonna go where it wants to go and no amount of pushing and pulling is gonna change it's course of action...no matter how firm your hold position is.  It's kinda like trying to do the Samba with John Wayne if you catch my drift.  The only thing you'll accomplish is ending up wrapped to the pole by the IV line like a May Pole with your gown up around your ears.
2. When the urge to bust a move hits, you best not wait until the last minute to ask Mr. Pole to Quick Step you on over to the bathroom.  I learned the hard way it doesn't like to sit too long on the wallflower bench and can get a might testy when one tries to hurry it along. It can and will step/roll on your toes.  This was a dance move I learned the hard way and I've got the bruised big toe to prove it.
3. There is no way on God's green Earth you can ever make a cocktail dress out of a hospital gown.  Hot to trot?  Forget it...not even the matronly Fox Trot works in that get-up. Truth is, you can be neither vixen nor lady in one.  Nope...ain't gonna happen.  Face it...it is what it is...dog butt ugly.  That split up the back is not and will never be the same as a split up the thigh.  Law...it's not there to attract the opposite sex.  It's there to facilitate treatment or so they say, but I got me a hunch it's there to humble you into submission.  And boy oh boy...does it ever succeed!  Not even the ruffliest pair of Rumba britches can change that fact. Oh...and take it from me...putting it on backwards won't improve the view either!  That'll only get you raised eyebrows from the hospital staff and your kids the need for some therapy.
4.  If you're thinking a pair of dancing shoes will improve the situation...think again.  This year's fashion trend in hospital footwear includes a pair of hideous brown non-slip socks...hospital issued of course.  Which reminds me, I haven't got the bill for 'em yet.  I'm pretty sure those bad boys are gonna set me back more than a pair of Louboutin's.  Heck...couldn't they at least have red leather soles instead of white vinyl lines?  And lest I forget, there was the white electric leg warmers with matching knee-highs for circulation I wore each and every night.  At first it was like cat-dancing on my legs, but after an hour...ummm not so much.  I tried to re-imagine them as disco boots, but the first night as I was doing the Hustle to get them off for my bathroom Tango, I quickly changed their name to #%&$ PITA's.
5. Lastly, but certainly not leastly...the hairstyle to complete a hospital ballroom look.  Now if you're hoping for an up-do and long, dripping with crystals, earrings...Oh Mylanta...are you in for a disappointment.   I'm here to tell you the only thing that'll be dripping is the IV bags...and quite possibly you from those #%&$ disco boots.  I found my up-do consisted of my hair sticking straight up in the air.  Maybe a classic French twist?  Yeah...that was me all right,  doing the twist trying to brush out the tangles with my free arm while asking the nurse to pardon my French.

So there you have it.  For a glorious eight days and seven nights, my dance card was filled.  I was never at a loss for a partner (with perfect posture I might add) and I also came home with a party favor...a PICC line for further at home antibiotic infusion.  This lovely accessory came complete with a navy blue neck bag...for further humbling.  Before you ask...yes...it's working...both for healing and for humbling.  Navy blue has never been my color.  I'm more of an "autumn" type gal.

Now before you get to thinking me ungrateful, please allow me add one final important detail.  I'm blessed that I was able to come home with this latest in statement necklaces and thankful God kept me on the dance floor and not up on a surgeon's table.  I am recovering, albeit slowly, but everything is according to His plan.  Held firmly in His arms of my life's waltz, I will never try and lead, but happily follow Him as He grace-fully navigates me around the dance floor...

His rhythm and timing always perfection.

As I sit here, the IV line dangling over the keyboard as I try to type, I'm wondering just one thing:

Reckon I could bedazzle this cotton pickin' bag and start my own line of old lady accessories?

CHA-CHA-CHA!