"The catheter was much longer than I expected. It made me think of speaker wires, with the A and B ends ready to ignite sounds from my blood. But these were not male outlets and I was not wired for sound. It slid in near my wrist and I could feel it anchor far down my forearm. And now the ends hang down like charms on a tennis bracelet. Very distracting and it makes typing hard. I do not like the accouterments."
I wrote that right after being turned into a part time cyborg. I was afraid it would hurt. Other than the initial incision, well puncture really, it did not. It was just horribly awkward angling off my left wrist. They told me it would likely hurt when they removed it. I envisioned it might feel like they were squeegeeing the inside of my forearm, but I have no memory at all of how it felt when it was removed. I was just happy it was gone. That I was more like myself again, my old self, less cyborg.
It signified that I was no longer going to be pumped full of chemicals. So just the removal of it was huge. The first mental step to recovery.
When i trace my finger over the veins, I can still feel where it was, but i am not sure if I am feeling it with my fingers or in my arm. From time to time, I still get that feeling of it being anchored deep in my arm. much like one might get phantom limb syndrome. I know that is totally crazy and impossible. But at times I can feel the missing line cast in my blood so much. It reminds me of Morrissey's song Ouija Board where he longs to talk to an old friend, since gone.
See, that catheter, where they plugged me full of life eating chemicals was sort of a new, a second, umbilical cord. And as much as I hate what happened to me when its plastic tendril plowed into me, I know it saved me. And for as uncomfortable as it made me, I will always have a soft place in my heart for it.
That said, I hope to never have another line plugged into me. As I said, there is no place in my world for such accouterments.