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| June 19th, 2005 | I Need a Catheter | ||
Aunt Denise and Uncle Pete left yesterday, and now it is time to get back to my reality. Today I have my fourth round of chemo to contend with. I sit down in my chair. Bob, the man who comforted me during my first chemo, is just finishing up his chemo session and is getting ready to leave. We smile and acknowledge each other, but he is too weak to do more than exchange pleasantries. The chemo nurse comes and begins preparing my arm for an IV, however she has trouble finding a vein. She calls another nurse over to give it a shot, but she has no luck either. This is starting to get painful. Finally, they bring in the Big Gun. They call over a nurse whose name is also Karen. She gives it the old college try, but not even she can find a vein. She releases the turnicate with exasperation and tells me I need a picc line or a port. I have been dreading making this decision for so long, and now I have to. I would like a port, but if I do that, it will most likely delay my chemo by a week, and I definitely don’t want to do that. Karen can install a picc line right now and my chemo will only be delayed for one day. I choose the picc line catheter.
Posted in Karen's Fight |
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