Yep. The good old Wound Vac. I had been staying home most of the time, because I was so uncomfortable going anywhere with the ominous black bag strapped to me.. People might think I had something wrong with me. My doctors had gotten concerned; there was mention of going to MD Anderson for a bone marrow something or other and on and on. So, I decided to love my new friend, the Wound Vac, for better or for worse, because it was going to heal me. I decided to wear it PROUDLY. We went everywhere together that day.While I was at Home Depot, I became aware of a man who kept staring at me. At first I thought, Hmmmmmm. He must be interested in me, but his face really doesn't look like that. It's sort of a disgusting look on he has on his face. But why???? And then it hit me. He must be one of those uncaring people who can't take a little diversity, or can't understand that people sometimes have physical problems. I decided I wasn't going to stand for that worse-than-pity look. I stared right into his eyes and never looked away. I was going to show him that I was so PROUD of me and my black bag. And, show him I did! I was so pumped and confident that I went everywhere. I bravely ran errands all over town.
When I got home, I started making my little stationery things and I looked down. Oh...Oh Nooooo! Noooooooooooooo! I had been in a hurry when I left to venture out and ran into the bathroom, to go really fast. In my haste, I had zipped up the lovely tube, buttoned my jeans, washed my hands and ran out the door. So, YES. The man at Home Depot did have what I thought was a disgusting look on his face.
