Ok, just a small pinch......Oh no!
As always, our intention with our Consuellama’s Corner articles is to bring you some levity and laughter, and for that, we turn to our favorite place to kick back, read and laugh. We hope, if you laugh with this story, that you too, feel a bit better! Because sometimes that’s all you can do...just laugh...maybe even out loud! Let’s laugh!
I love nurses! I’ve been blessed to have amazing nurses from my very first chemo treatment (BIG shout-out to Shay and Jay!) and throughout my ongoing journey. I am so thankful for their care and genuine love for me! And I’ve also had the chance to meet fabulous new nurses, beginning their careers in oncology, and doing their training shoulder-to-shoulder with the seasoned pros. After all, we ALL have to start somewhere!
A couple of weeks ago, when I went in for my now usual round of scans (which are done every 5-6 months to check overall status of my treatment and ensure we are still tracking to “NED” (no-evidence of disease), one of the nurses was new. In fact, it was her first week in training with the nuclear medicine team!
She was lovely, and her first task was to place the IV in my arm, through the vein in which they would give me the contrast dye during the scans. Easy-peasy because my veins can practically be seen from space.
But on this day, it would be a little different...allow me to set the scene...
First, most, if not all, patients are a little anxious going into their scans. Your nerves are running a bit high and because you have to fully fast (including no coffee, carbonated drinks, or water) for anywhere from 4-6 hours prior to the scan, your patience can be running a bit low....my morning ‘caffeine’ people feel me, yes?
Ok, so nerves high, patience low, hunger and hydration needs high, patience even lower.
In part one of the procedure, you are given what feels like a gallon-sized, highly watered-down dirt smoothie to drink as quickly as possible. Once done, you wait for about forty-five minutes and then you are guided back into the prep area for part two: placement of the IV.
According to the official medical radiologist description of this part of the procedure, the intravenous contrast dye (an iodine based colorless liquid) is delivered into your body through a small plastic tube, known as an intravenous cannula, which is placed into a vein in your arm by a nurse or radiographer who are both experienced in performing this procedure. This is the actual description. Feel free to read that again.
Ok, back to me.
I drank the dirt smoothie quickly, waited and was ready for the IV placement.
As if on cue, both the lovely nurse in-training and the mentor-nurse saw my veins and said, “great, we can see them”. Everyone says this, and I always think, easy-peasy. Houston, we have the all-clear!
Now, the best way to describe what happened next, is through a baseball analogy.
Once the lovely nurse in-training prepped my left arm (dabbing the area with alcohol), she began with the usual “ok, just a small pinch”....and I always look away at this point. Again, easy-peasy, because they usually find the vein and in goes the “intravenous cannula”...But...
Instead I heard, “oh no!”...and I thought “oh, no?” And then I heard, “we missed it, take it out now!”...and I thought, “we missed what?!” I glanced down and noticed that my left arm was already bandaged up. So I said, “oh, was that just a blood draw today before we start?” And the very nice mentor-nurse said, “no, we’re going to have to try the other arm.” Hmm, ok....I thought.
Strike ONE.
Now, I should also mention that I am on a mild blood thinner....
Next up, was my right arm... the lovely nurse in-training once again said, “ok, just a small pinch”....and I, as always, looked away at this point....and then I heard, in a higher pitched voice, “oh no, oh no, oh no!”
At this point, I made the critical mistake of glancing down, and it looked like the scene from the SNL skit where Dan Aykroyd plays Julia Child cutting the chicken (a mess!).
Strike TWO.
Back to left arm...and, you guessed it:
Strike THREE.
And so now, my nerves are running super-high, I am sweating, and I can hardly breathe thru my N-95 mask.
So, the lovely nurse-in training (who was amazingly kind and apologetic) and the mentor-nurse (equally kind and apologetic), having called themselves “out at the plate”, walked me over to the radiologist in charge of the procedure.
Now, because I’m there every five months or so, I know the radiologist (who is also, very nice).
And when I walked in, with both arms bandaged tightly and looking like I’d been in a brawl, she said, “what happened out there?!”
And at this point, I suddenly became Beaker on the Muppets: “I don’t know, there was blood everywhere and the vein and the IV and I’m not sure!”
It took a minute or so to get me back to my own voice and cool self. And once we did, the radiologist placed the IV like it was part of my skin....she was Derek Jeter with the “flip play”...easy-peasy was back!
And, as I went to leave, she said, “now I know I always tell you to be sure to hydrate to flush the contrast, but today, make sure you drink a bit more....You know, for the blood”.
Roger that! Over and out! 👍🏼
About Consuellama
Consuellama was inspired by llamas being hardy and well suited to harsh environments — they are quite sure-footed, easily navigating rocky terrain. It made me think that it is absolutely synonymous to navigating the “terrain” on the cancer journey. But beyond that, it is also the fact that you can’t look at the face of a llama and not smile!
