PICC-et Line

Today's the day y'all.

Come 3:30ish this afternoon I will be PICC line free.

Can I get a yee to the haw?

No more getting whacked in the face by this PITA blue bag when I bend over to put my britches on.

No more hanging myself on the seat belt when perched in the poodle seat.

No more having to dine at Luby's...less I get a hankering for liver and onions.

No more Cat Daddy looking like a mad scientist in those latex gloves,  holding a saline syringe in one hand and my life line in the other. 

No more tales from the recent soap opera of my life...Downtown Gown Tails.

(Right about now, that last one ought to make y'all real happy knowing I'll have to find something else to talk about.  Talk about a broken record...just call me Hapless Harpy!)



God's got me right where He wants me...in His hip pocket.  Don't waste your "good lucks" on me.  Save 'em for the doctor.  He's the one who is gonna need 'em if he tries to talk me into another two weeks.

Woe unto him if he does make that mistake.

I'm ready for him.

I'm armed to the teeth and my nails are painted jungle red.

I've got it all planned out in my mind what to say.

How's this?

Doc, Cat Daddy is beginning to suspect there's more going on between you and me than just dressing changes...wink, wink!  Fact of the matter...C.D. is convinced you have a major crush on ol' Deb and he.doesn't.like.it.one.bit.

If that doesn't work...I got a back-up argument to throw at him.

How 'bout this?

Doctor Feel Good, the only thing on me that is in need of a really good PICC is my nose.

Finally, if that doesn't work...

Well then...I'll just have to chew his head off...

after I finish chewing off my arm!

Talk to y'all again in a bite.

Oopsie!

I mean bit!