"It's so small that you can wear it on your hip"
"It shouldn't inhibit you in any way"
"No one will even know that you have it"

These are just three of the many lies I was told prior to meeting my new friend, the portable IV med pump. Discreet is about the last word I'd use to describe it. I've taken some pictures but keep forgetting to bring my USB card reader to work and am dead tired by the time I get home.

I pictured a insulin-type pump. A little box that I could wear on my hip. Instead I get this...

a bulky piece of crap that, when combined with a small IV bag, is housed in a pouch roughly the size to two first generation Walkmen stacked end-to-end. True, I can put the whole thing in my Timbuk2 bag but it's hardly non-evident. There's also the six inches of flesh-colored bandage on my right arm with a blue tube protruding from it that might just give away the fact that something's just not right with that boy.

I'd also like to take a moment to thank modern science for coming up with a drug that perfectly recreates my complexion circa 1987. That's a nice bonus.

At any rate, I shouldn't be bitching. All could be worse and I do feel much better. Surgery on Friday should improve things even more. I just like to bitch, 'tis all.