cancer patient odyssey: you learn something new every day

i didn't sleep well last night.

i knew today was going to be a tough day.

no, i wasn't worked up at all about the scan i had today. really. i wasn't worried about the images the doctor would see, whether they would show this wonder drug is doing everything it is supposed to do or if it, for me at least, is a dud. you'd guess the opposite would be true, that i'd be worrying my head off regarding the results of the scan and therefore, not sleeping well. that's not the case.

i was worrying myself nearly sick about the prospect of being stuck for my iv.

over the course of the past three and a half years my veins have been under varying levels of assault. not only have i sufficiently lost count of the number of times i've been stuck for a blood test, chemo, or other procedure, i don't really care to keep tally. i'd wager a guess that me and ten of my closest friends don't have enough fingers and toes to cover it. all those needles and catheders leave their mark in the form of mounting scar tissue. then there's the chemo, rather caustic on a good day, shimmering so clearly in the iv bag or bottle, when it hits the veins it can do damage. i hate gemzar the most. first, it burned on the way in, so badly i had to close my eyes and count to myself the minutes i had left until the infusion was complete, and second, after it course through my veins it left them hard and tired.

all morning nurses and technicians looked at my veins, gave me a sympathetic look, and shook their heads. some of them couldn't even feel a vein anywhere in my arms. the veins in my hands have shrunk and rest feebly next to the bones. trust me, a stray stick in this area hurts more than slamming your hand in a door. all along, i knew this would be the case. i warned them - i have bad veins. they said it was too early in the morning for someone with veins like mine. i knew it. we covered my arms with warming packs and hoped something would rise up, a worthy volunteer. not the case. finally there was one in my left hand. i trusted the nurse. the iv went in, and the vein promptly collapsed around it. nothing could go in or out of the syringe she used to flush the iv. she pulled the catheder out and kindly applied constant pressure to the spot to reduce the size of the bruise that would surely appear later. then, with instructions to bury my arms under my jacket and blankets, she told me she'd call the ultrasound guys to take a look.

i'd never heard of this before. it kind of freaked me out.

i layered warm packs on both of my arms and allowed the nurse to practially swaddle me in blankets that had been warming in the special blanket-warming-oven. this is a treat better than freshly baked cookies. someday when i am rich and buy my italian villa or mountain home, it will come with a blanket-warming device and i will use it every single day when i take a nap or go to bed.
the ultrasound guy did arrive, and my first reaction was that i'd seen him before, a couple of years ago, when he had once stuck me for yet another ct scan. i didn't say anything about it right away, but at the end of the following series of events, he told me he indeed remembered me and that last time, we hadn't had to do all that work. i reminded him that last time, he had a blood test later that day and was telling me he'd be a bigger baby than i had been. (that time, i remember getting really nauseas as he stuck me) i was mesmerized by the technique he used to stick me this time. he took a small ultrasound wand and ran it the length of the underside of my left forearm. as he paused and pressed on places, i could see dark circles on the screen. those were my veins and arteies. when he pressed hard, the veins would collapse, while arteries would stay circular and pulse with my heartbeat. and that, my friends, is how you avoid sticking a number 22 needle in an artery. as he found his spot and prepped it with an alcohol pad, i tensed up and looked away. he told me to breathe as there was the usual sharp prick, but then, nothing. below the surface, there aren't as many nerves, and it doesn't really hurt when they move the needle around to set the catheder. before i knew it, i was all set. i wanted to hug him. this was the best medical advance i'd experienced in a long time. or at least since i got into this trial.

i sat and waited for the scan, with my day totally having been made. i was smiling from ear to ear. little did i know, as i sat there with my elbow bent, i was probably bending the catheder as it sat in my arm. when i went in for my scan the iv was difficult to flush. the first thing they do is take an xray of the study area, so that was easy. but when they went to inject the contrast, nothing happened. it wasn't going in. they tried to play around with the iv a bit but nothing was happening. when they took it out, it was kinked, like a "z" shape.

shit.

i would have to sit and get another iv placed.

this time a different ultrasound guy came and he was just and gentle and patient with me as the first one was. he explained what his job entailed. i actually watched the screen this time, as he placed the iv, and i could see the needle entering the vein, which was kind of nuts since it was a bit lower beneath the surface than i am used to. he also told me any time i have another scan of any sort that requires an iv to just come there and they'd take care of me.

hospitals are full of nice people. today, i wanted to hug all of them.

i settled for hugging a couple of the chemo nurses upstairs on 2 when i went for bloodwork. after the morning's events i was happy to see familiar faces.

and finally, at 1pm, i got to eat breakfast. or lunch. my first meal of the day. the ultrasound deal made it worth the wait.

now, i would really, really just like the scan results to be good. please.