Tuesday, March 15, 2011

The Folly Of Obsessing Over An Odd Number Of Syringes

Back about a week ago, when I was going through my hebdonas horibilis (roughly "bad week" in Latin, though I'm told they didn't track the days in sevens back in the day), I was at the end of my rope.  I was hoping for a sign, any sign, that things were going to get better.

And because I have OCD, what I started to obsess over was whether the insulin needles I have left in the bag are an odd or even number.

I keep an opened bag of needles right next to me, here on my desk where I usually blog.  There are ten needles in each bag.  My Grandmother needs to go through two a day.

So when I started out, I would go through and load up the needles with insulin for her to use the next day.  And when I got through the entire bag, usually late at night I would go to the bathroom and to get another bag.

A month or so ago, however, Grandmother went to the casino.  She forgot to take her syringe with, and she didn't use it when she got home, either.  That meant that I had one syringe left over, and that meant I only needed to load up one for the next day, which meant that I now had an odd number in my bag.  I was excessively bummed out when I reached into the bag a second time to see that it was empty, because then I had to remember to grab a bag in the middle of the day, and I know that I probably won't.

So I waited, pined, for the day when I could "get back even."  And last weekend -- wait, maybe it was the weekend before ... yeah, the weekend before -- I got that chance.  Grandmother went away for most of that Satureday and came back late, therefore she didn't use her needle.  And I'm back even, yay!

So after I gave her her shot Sunday morning, I was more than happy to load up the other needle, which would mean that every syringe still in the bag now had a partner.  I was staring at my computer while preparing the needle, however, and I flipped the syringe around to stick it into the vial, and/or when I was lying the two things up vertically so I could shoot the needle up, and, somehow, the syringe slipped out of my hands.  And I saw the needle fall helplessly to the floor.  NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'll be honest: If the needle of the needle didn't touch the floor, I would have used it.  I am that obsessed with keeping the syringes even.  But it did, and throwing the now-contaminated syringe away, without using it once, and knowing that I was "back odd" because I was all goddamn thumbs, put me in agony.  What a waste, and what a way to wrap up a week where nothing was going my way.

---

Zip to this Saturday.  Grandmother went to the casino again.  I was out watching the big-school boys' state high school hockey tournament championship game.  When I came home late that night, there was an unused syringe.  Back even!

Then, Sunday.  She went to the casino yet again.  I didn't go anywhere, but after watching the NCAA Men's Basketball Tournament Selection Show and having dinner, I conked off -- but not before seeing Grandmother come home, around 8 or so.  Didn't care about giving her her injection.

Woke up at around midnight.  Checked the fridge.  There was a needle.  Back odd.

And now I realize what a mistake it is to obsess over something as frivolous as having an even number of syringes in a bag.  Because it can all fucking change in a day.

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