My life and the film Aliens have a lot of similarities right now. Essentially I have one of those alien babies in my stomach which is this mystery illness I call the Sudden Unnamed Conditions ala Kubler-Ross Syndrome (Or SUCKS for short, like “This sucks!”). Only, unlike in Alien or Aliens, I have a symbiotic relationship with my acid blood alien parasite. So, I am chatting amiably when SUCKS appears, ripping out of my belly and melting off a few peoples faces before disappearing again. And for some reason, after they have seen what is inside, no matter how witty I might be in person after that, people are just nervous around me and often can’t wait to get away. Like when I went for my leg and bikini wax.
Now, if you are inclined to shave your legs, and don’t have a lot of energy anymore, leg waxing makes sense, no? Plus they had a special! Linda and I went and I got to go first. Since I am 60% leg, leg waxing is a bargain for me, all you need to do is deal with the pain. I am talking to our waxer about the worst kind of bleeders she has seen (sometimes people with deep bikini hair roots have copious blood post rip). Yes I am under a warm lamp and lying next to two heating pots of leg/bikini wax (and one of Brazilian wax) but because I can’t feel my own temperature, I am unaware that I am progressing through heat stoke. Ignoring the nausea and laughing through the pain of this 20 something year old woman doing a repeated strip and rip on my right bikini line, I am listening to her story of how she gave her mother her first bikini wax. This leads to an image of me giving MY mother a bikini wax, an image which is so traumatic that I am thrown back to the memory of “that” talk, which for mutual discomfort was only surpassed when in my freshly "out" lesbo wisdom I attempted a conversation with my father to check out his oral sex techniques. I quickly ran out of both metaphors and was hit with the shock that a) I was having this conversation and b) that I had INITIATED it. I fled and we avoided eye contact for an protracted period.
Back at the waxing, while we are moving on to the topic of Brazilians and the many reasons one might have for getting one which doesn’t involve putting sex pictures on the internet, my body is going into shock (medically). I begin to start panting because my heart is all erratic and isn’t passing enough oxygen on. Linda puts on the oxygen mask because my arms are spasming. But it is too late and I pass out. The woman doing the waxing reacts by.....running out of the room (yeah that's helpful!). After a period I simply stop breathing. Linda tells me later that she often WAITS for me to pass out because she knows that once I am unconscious my breathing will tend to regulate. But this non-breathing thing is sort of newish. Though in the last week Linda has had to put me in the JC position (Lifting me up by under my shoulders because I don’t have the strength to breath by expanding my rib cage by myself – kinda the way crucified people used to suffocate to death). As a first aider, Linda looks down at me on the waxing table and notes that my heart's beating and remembers “if the heart is still beating, the body is getting oxygen.” Though after a time Linda decides breathing is important too and starts CPR on me. Coming back is the part I remember. I have to say that CPR is a lot more....um....moist, than it appears on TV shows and romance books (and though you think you are about to get tongue...you never do!).
With me unable to speak or move, Linda communicates with me by asking me questions and I try to squeeze my index finger as affirmative. If that doesn’t work, we try it with blinking. If that doesn’t work, with a breath huff. Waxing woman has returned and is suggesting that I STOP the waxing. I suppose to someone who doesn’t have this happen every other day, that would seem logical. From my point of view, the front of my left leg and my right thigh have been waxed and she wants me to go home with my lower right leg and back of the legs unwaxed? Hello? In my family we finish the chores we start. As a child if I left my assigned morning section unweeded I got no breakfast. I missed school buses because I had to do the dishes first. So, all that good training says; hoe to the end of the row (Linda has noted that EVERY sports instructor I’ve had has repeatedly tried to tell to “chill out” and that there are things called “human limitations”). Coaxed back to work on my legs by Linda translating my blinks and grunts waxing woman has stopped talking to me and is waxing my legs with the kind of fear around the eyes one gets at the chow line in prison. Personally, if you are going to have a full leg and bikini wax then doing it in a post comatose condition is WAY easier. I never twitched once. In fact I barely felt it. This might also have to do with the fact that much of the blood in my legs had been leeched by my heart when I wasn’t breathing. Waxing woman is telling Linda that because my legs are now stone cold, the wax won’t come off; it is bonding with the leg. She has to get out a solvent to separate leg and wax (so, it turns out corpses are NOT good waxing candidates). She finishes me and again…runs out of the room.
Linda transfers me to the wheelchair, sets up my oxygen and eventually the waxing woman comes back and waxes Linda. However, now she will no longer engage with my banter, conversation or indeed even respond or look at me. I guess this is where I can’t put SUCKS back in the box (hey, my alien won't suck off your face with acid, honest!). Personally, I am pretty happy. Linda got to do CPR again and this time it wasn’t on someone who was already dead. Plus, post waxing I am now physically prepared for wearing my skull thongs and bikinis. The thongs are presenting a problem since essentially the only reason to wear a thong is to say, “wow, do I have a great ass/body or what?” You are either wearing something so tight you don’t want panty lines or you are just advertising your sex appeal. Getting the same effect wearing a thong in a wheelchair is harder, but not impossible. I like the “Excuse me, excuse me, I have an announcement” line in a crowd, then as all turn toward you, you say, “Oh is that a quarter” and bend your body all the way over as you brush your fingers on the floor, giving everyone a view of your low cut jeans as the bikini thong strings disappearing into them. So far, fear and a need to get away seems to be the common reaction for that gambit.
There is also the “wear a mini skirt and let your wheelchair go high speeds downhill” option. The skirt flips back from wind resistance and your skull print thong bikini is there for viewing. However, since the major hill near me has a lot of old folks homes and elderly out with assisted walking devices, I am not sure how it is going. There do seem to be a lot more old guys out with walkers on my last trips. That’s pretty much it for modest ideas for wearing a thong. I mean if you want to just wear a thong and NO skirt or jeans there is the wheelchair slut option: Skull bikini thong and corset (which works too). Just don’t stop at Starbucks for a coffee, not if you still have nerve endings in the lower 50 (wheelchairs don’t have cup holders!).
Now, waxing done, I would say we made a foolish decision which was the old; “Well since we are out here, we should drop in at xxxxx shop.” I mean, I understand that what goes on medically shouldn’t determine my life but hey, on oxygen, getting CPR, maybe you want to, I dunno, REST a little. See, the more I can actually move and get out, the more chances I will have for showing off my thongs. Like when I am asked, “Do you want fries with that?” I say, “Excuse me, I didn’t hear what you said; I was adjusting my Victoria Secret Thong on my freshly waxed body.” It’s subtle the way work it into conversation Bette Davis style with a tinge of desperation (“That's me: an old kazoo with some sparklers”).
Anyway, if nothing else, the thongs are good for wearing to medicals simply to freak out the docs. And if there is one thing I want to do right now, it is get some freak back on the doctors. And to entertain myself. And maybe those within viewing distance. So please, look beyond the evil jack in the box of medical issues inside and see the skull thong of friendship instead.
18 hours ago