So, as part of the dialysis process, I have had a surgery called a fistula – a u-turn of a vein into an artery, creating a roaring channel of blood in my arm unfettered with silly distractions like circulation. The point is to make a unnaturally high volume blood vessel to use as my dialysis access. It is a never ending source of wonder and amusement to me.
I can hear the blood roaring through my arm through my pillow at night. I can feel it rushing like rapids beneath my skin, whirring and pulsing like a dynamo, throbbing with life, warm, dynamic, alive
It squicks the fuck out of my animal.
She’s not a “girly-squeamish” type. But something about this makes her react with skin-crawling dread, as if being brushed with this arm is like wearing a stranger’s snot. Therefore, I feel comple;lled to torment her with it. Hilarity and mayhem ensues.
This morning, she again evinced repulsion at real or imagined contact with my throbbing fistula (Good name for a punk band, gotta remember that.). I feigned hurt and stated that this was proof she did not care about me after all, to which she stated:
“I do love you. I don’t love your freakish mutation.”
I am amused.