Oey.  Last night was a bit of a trial, but I made it through. My chair session wasn't bad necessarily, but it started with the little table next to my chair collapsing...thus dropping my sippy cup, snacks, cell phone, iPad, and headphones onto the floor in a puddle of ice, Crystal Lite, and God knows what else down there.

After a frantic drying off session, we were able to get me hooked up, but I was without anything to eat or drink for the duration. (I know.  Poor me, right?  Like I really couldn't stand to miss a meal!)

I came home to change clothes and made the unfortunate choice of a Target clearance top that has big poofy wing sleeves. I wasn't too sure about this, but my Jersey Boy assured me that it looked much better that my normal getup of "geriatric farmer in pants that are eight sizes too big".

(The big wing sleeves were swell, but kept dipping in the ketchup at dinner.)

We got to the game, but had to park in East JaBip...so this meant a brisk walk. I don't mind brisk walks in the morning when I have my sneakers and sweatpants on, but doing it with enormous wings and a too full tummy meant that once I got into the arena I was a little sweaty and had "issues".

(Apparently, in addition to the big wing sleeves, the big top was on clearance because it's made from some type of space age fabric that has the ability to not breathe AND heat up its contents all at the same time...kind of like aluminum foil.)

I waited as long as I could, and when I finally made it to the ladies' room I decided that it was time to remove my pressure bandages on Buzzy.  (After chair time, the needles are removed and I put pressure on the two sites for about five minutes or so, and then bandages are applied. I leave them on for four hours and then remove them.)

(I've never had an issue with this protocol, thank goodness.)

(Until last night.)

Now we all know how much I love my beloved university, but can I just say one thing to the powers that be over there?

WHY DID YOU HAVE TO REMOVE ALL PAPER PRODUCTS FROM THE RESTROOM?!

I removed the bandages and started bleeding like a fire hose. So I immediately put my fingers over the site and looked for a paper towel...

BUT THERE ARE NO PAPER TOWELS IN THE RESTROOMS AT THE UNIVERSITY OF NOTRE DAME!

So my next thought was a "feminine hygiene product"...but guess what...APPARENTLY NONE OF THE WOMEN ATTENDING SPORTING EVENTS AT THE UNIVERSITY OF NOTRE DAME ARE SUPPOSED TO DRY THEIR HANDS OR HAVE AN URGENT NEED FOR A FEMININE HYGIENE PRODUCT!

I finally made it into an empty stall and grabbed a big huge wad of toilet tissue (THAT, they allow), and I made it out to an usher named George who proceeded to walk me eighteen and a half miles to the first aid room.

(The best line of the night was when George sat me in the First Aid chair and said "Here, Toots...let me help you get that blouse off" and then winked at me when it took me a minute to realize he was just being cheeky.)

(George, by the way, was about 106 years old, but still very spry and handsome, so I took it as a compliment instead of a #metoo moment.)

The nurses in the First Aid room were non-plussed by a sweaty spinster in a big top with arm wings bleeding all over the damn place, and they cleaned me up, took my blood pressure, gave me some cold water, and patted me gently when I started to cry.

In the meantime, they also texted Jersey Boy up in the stands to let him know that I was safe and sound and not to worry about my long absence, but that I had a small medical emergency and required attention.

(He wanted to know if I could grab him a hot dog and a dietCoke on my way back.)

(Just kidding...he never looked at his phone and probably didn't even realize I was gone.)

(OK...that's not fair. I'm sure he knew I was gone, but since he is an avid basketball fan (and a man) he probably didn't think anything of the fact that I had excused myself and hadn't come back yet.)

When I finally did make it back to my seat (looking like a sweaty spinster in a big top with arm wings) the game was almost over and then it was time to gather our things, sing the Alma Mater, and trek the thousand miles back to the car for the traffic jam home.

(Jersey Boy felt terrible that he wasn't there in my moment of need, but considering the fact that he is perhaps the most squeamish person on the planet and passes out if you say b-l-o-o-d, I think it was better that he was oblivious.)

So lots of lessons learned.  If I'm going to be a girl about town and go out on chair days, then I need to be adequately prepared for a problematic bandage removal...or better yet...I need to wait until I get home to do so.  Either that, or I need to carry a purse like a big girl and stow a few emergency supplies in it and quit trying to be 22 again and just put a lip gloss and driver's license in my pocket.

(And I need to make a donation to Notre Dame so they can afford to put paper towels back in the damn restrooms where they belong.)

So that's it.  Today I am in the Happy Chair with damn good and the paper, and then I am going to head into the cube room studio to play with my stash. Rich is at pickleball and will then come home to work, so it should be a swell Thursday.

Here's hoping yours is the same and that your evening was peaceful and stress free! Come tell me all about it!