Why do invisible things hurt so damn much???
This morning mum wasn’t awake yet for her morning shot (What a surprise…I think I just bumped into my first morning sarcasm snark.…). Anyway, she decided to actually get up today and check her glucose (it was high, of course.) and I got out her humalog for her breakfast shot. She put it away badly last night and when I upended the box to ‘pour’ it into my hand (NOTE: we tend to reuse needle tips more than once, so obviously this is a mistake not normally made by many others.) and the plastic top was off. Yup, the needle jammed into my hand between my fingers. 15 min later, it is still a bit numb. It hurted!
Thinking about getting needle jabbed reminds me of that time I was getting an A1C and ended up also getting tested for AIDS. The nurse, when she was getting ready to cap the needle after removing it from my sore arm (I do not do blood draws very well), stabbed herself. There was the other time a nurse said my vein kept rolling, found it, and shoved the needle into a nerve. (That particular draw hurt for months!) So, inefficient.
People can jab without needles. Inadvertent painful pokes.
I read a blog forward by Antonio Westley (having trouble with links today) which suggested phones work both ways. I often wait for The Craftsman to text me or contact me, but realised that may not always be fair. So, I texted. More than once. I am not always as grateful as I should be for the ones I get in return. I know he is super busy and tired by 1030 pm or 11 or later. I’m sure he’s thinking of me, he likes when I send him texts, and says so. (I don’t call during the day often, people at work don’t need bothered unless it is important!) I know 3 lines is a great deal at the end of the day. It means I’m the last thing he thinks about before he gets ready for bed. From a different point of view, that is rather sweet.
In a book I need to purchase by Brene Brown, the line “I am imperfect and vulnerable and sometimes afraid, but that doesn’t change the truth that I am also brave and worthy of love and belonging.” isn’t always as believable as it might be.
From my side, those short bits of communication hurt, and I feel more of the imperfections and less of the worthiness. (Silly, huh?)