Countdown to Heart Monitor Removal

I cannot wait until I go get this heart monitor off! There are six nodes to this thing that have their own adhesive stuff, and then there's tape over that. All the wires meet and join into one which plugs into the recording device held in a pouch much like a fanny pack that straps around the waist. I can take the pack off, like last night when I was sleeping or when I go to the bathroom, but I'm in constant fear that it will drop, and I'll break the thing. That makes it inconvenient at most though. What makes the thing a living hell is those little nodes stuck all over my chest.

To put those things on, the nurse had to use a type of sandpaper and scratch the living shit out of the spots on my chest where the nodes would stick. It helps make for a better bond, so the readings are good. I wasn't howling in pain at this, but nobody likes getting sandpapered raw. At least that's what I thought until after I wore this a while.

Sometime last evening, I started itching around the nodes and the tape that helped keep them stuck down. It wasn't too bad, so I ignored it. Every now and then, the itch would crop up, and I continued ignoring it. It was a little cycle, and I could keep telling myself that the itching would pass.

As the night wore on, it took longer and longer for the itching to pass, until it became a continuous thing. It's like having chicken pox! I itch and itch, but I'm not supposed to scratch. Scratching would disturb the reading, and disturbing the reading too much or too often could mean I'm made to wear this thing again. I most certainly do not want that! But after watching the whole second half of the Olympic women's figure skating competition in itchy agony, I broke down and started scratching around the tape as best I could. Then I went into the bathroom where I could use the mirror to see where the tape was, so I could get full scratching potential. I don't know how in the world people endure casts. This was misery.

Despite scratching my chest to a red, blotchy mess, I went to bed still itchy. It took a good 45 minutes to get to sleep, because I itched so bad. Once in a while, I'd dare a little scratch, and one time, I even scratched right up next to the nodes. I was that damn itchy. This morning, I woke up still itchy. Who knows how many times I scratched myself in my sleep.

I have only two more hours to go until I get this thing off. The nurse told me that it was really uncomfortable to get these sticky things removed, kind of like yanking off a bandage, but I'm starting to thing it might feel damn good. It will be like the ultimate scratch. Maybe she'll even bring me some of that sandpaper, so I can rub that all over my chest. I've at least managed to keep from scratching this morning, but I think it's resignation, not because it's less itchy. I can honestly compare this to chicken pox, and I was hospitalized for those, because I had them so bad.

I joked with John that as soon as I get to the car after my appointment to remove this thing, I'm going to scratch myself silly, though in my heart, I was totally serious. I said that then I had a date with a loofah in the shower, because I haven't been able to shower or bathe with this thing on. I can't get it wet. Wet messes up the reading too. So I'm a stinky, scummy, itchy, miserable mess.

I'm going out tonight to see John's band play. They are in a rock challenge thing where they go up against three other bands to get to the finals with three more bands. The winner gets studio time and some other perks that make bands happy. Since this is special to John, I'm going, but I really don't know that I want to go. I don't know that I ever want to go to a show again, since I resent the band (not the people, the environment) so much after what John did. I'm sure I'll enjoy myself once I'm there. Right now though, I don't want to go, and I don't plan on going to any more shows after this one. I might change my mind. It probably depends on how I feel after tonight.

Why I brought that up though, is my wardrobe choices are going to be severely limited due to the state of my chest. I know it was reddened from the sandpaper incident, and it's only bound to get worse after tape removal and vigorous scratching. I'll have to wear something with a somewhat high neck. I really hate all my clothes right now. I don't like going places when I hate my clothes. It's not like I can go shopping either. That just makes me more miserable. I can only take so much fitting room horror in one week.

Between doing chores, writing emails and finishing this, it almost took me an hour. That means I'm that much closer to monitor removal. Whoopie!