Tip #92 Bibs and Bobs; Tuburlosis

     Tuburlosis? It's pronounced Toob-yure-low-sis. What is it?  It is the word that my hubby Brad made up to describe having too many tubes and cords coming out of oneself, attached to oneself, or surrounding oneself. Well, actually, it's generally used to define a combination of the above, and is specific to said tubes being tangled (inconveniently I might add!). What did Shakespeare say? Oh what a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to, er, um, rely on medical equipment to sustain us? Okay, so I'm no Shakespeare, but who knows - maybe someday people will use the word tuburlosis as often as they quote one of his least known passages. A girl can dream...
     What made Brad coin the phrase? There are two reasons; a) because Brad is fun and it makes us laugh, and b) because it quickly conveys the need to stop and regroup before tubes are pulled out of me accidentally. It is a word that conveys an urgency to fix that issue quickly - which is especially important when I start to stand up. "Ttuburlosis" just seems more fitting than "Oops, careful - hold on a second, no, oh no  -  oh bring the computer back to my lap please, it's caught on my IV tubing, which, incidentally, seems to be tangled in the feed line." Way more fitting!
     We've had some tuburlosis near misses, which doesn't seem all that odd when on a typical day you'll find IV lines, a feeding tube and it's lines, the iPhone (and the headphones and charging cord that go with it), and the computer - on me, attached to me or in bed with me. And those are just the basics! At different times in the day we add the blood pressure monitor, and I've had a heart monitor (which delightfully had 3 cords for lickety-split tangling), the camera and/or card reader, and the cord that has a fancy name that I can't remember at the moment that makes the TV become my computer monitor. Tuburlosis indeed!
     Now, if we could only come up with a word for the daily accessories that I lose in the "magic covers (magic because they are really good at making things disappear, even if I've just used said items)." When the phone rings, or the iPhone alarms, for example, I end up searching said magic covers for the item I think is demanding attention. But that is harder than it looks! Have you ever noticed just how many technical items are small and black? The iPhone, the TV remote, the portable phone, the heart monitor (which was only for a while but was the bane of my universe), and the walkie-talkie (to reach Brad in the barn). And if that weren't enough, have you ever noticed just how many small black non-technical items we use day to day? At first glance the black pencil case, black glasses case, and black blood sugar testing kit look a lot like the technical items. Crazy I tell you!
     With all the colours in the world, and all the materials the earth provides, does it ever strike you as odd that as a society we want all of our stuff to look the same? The only time this mistaken-identity scenario pays off is when I accidentally find an item one of the other items is prompting me to use. So, when the iPhone alarms to tell me it's time to take my blood sugar, as long as I make a mental connection to what the alarm was prompting me for, it's just as well that I accidentally pick up the blood sugar kit in it's stead!
     My mother-in-law makes me laugh a lot - she's quite funny. She tells me that whenever she calls me from her house, she pictures the goings-on in this house in her mind, and it gives her a good giggle. She's been here enough times to accurately picture me digging through the covers, madly tossing small black items out of my way, whilst I frantically try to disentangle myself from the state of tuburlosis. And if that isn't silly enough, I find that the object in question (the phone in this instance) is usually slightly out of reach somewhere in the magic covers because I tossed it out of the way the last time I was madly searching said covers for something else small and black. It really is fairly comical to see, and usually to experience (usually, because sometimes it drives me nuts!).
    The solution? Unless you can somehow either:

• Cut down on what is in you or on you instantly (you'd have to recover miraculously with a snap of the fingers to make that happen), or
• Cut down on what is around you (less devices), or 
• Colour code all of your small black items, or maybe 
• Invent a device that does all of the functions you need it to? Improbable if not impossible, or 
• Put a spell on the covers to make them less magical

then I'm afraid you're out of luck... you too may be stuck with a state of tuburlosis and, well, lets call it small-black-item-itis.
     So, in the absence of changing your circumstances, I suggest you change your outlook; declare a diagnosis of tuburlosis, small-black-item-itis, or some other word you invent to describe that which is the bane of your universe. Then, try to sit back, giggle at yourself, and encourage others to join in. To us, it's a much better state of being!

Happy inventing!