PICC Line Happiness

On Wednesday evening, George, the vein whisperer, was called in to see to my tricky little pipes. He managed to take blood from my arm and get a cannula in the back of my hand first try, so the relief from anticipated blood trauma was settled and I was happy I didnt have to worry about that for a bit. But then the good news came! PICC line booked in for the next day!! Apparently it was a struggle and I don't know what nurses were responsible for making it happen, but whoever it was- I hope they eat good everyday for the rest of their lives.

I had to wear the hospital gown and pants again because I'd be going into theatre (sounds more serious than it was) but this time my pants werent paper- the were like some kind of stocking mesh. lol, quite comfy actually. The porter came with a chair... :( I wasnt going to be wheeled down in my bed like before surgery and for my x-ray (Oh yeah sorry forgot to mention that. I had a chest x-ray requested when they knew I had an infection. It happened on one of my dark days where I didnt open my eyes, but I could hear the porter struggling to get the balloon off the end of my bed and flirting with the nurse that had to accompany him on the way down. I thought x-rays were like scans, a bit like an MRI or CT, but they literally place a board behind whatever area theyre looking at and take a picture. Takes maybe 5 seconds for the entire process... anyway, all clear, brain is funky, but chest is good.) The chair isnt comfy or a smooth ride. If given the option, always choose the bed.

I was booked in for 1:30 which was alright timing seeing as the procedure was only meant to take about 15 minutes and I had some uni friends coming at 2ish. But I had to finish my session on the drip and wasnt taken down until 2. I had to wait in recovery to be collected and taken to theatre and being there for a little thing like fitting a PICC line but listening to a man coming back around from a serious surgery in the bay next to me was super unsettling. He was struggling to breathe because of fluid in his lungs and they were making sure he was okay and assisting him inhale his oxygen mask. He also needed to pee but didnt have the strength (been there mate, feel for you). But anyway, I had to wait for half an hour all too aware of the craziness around me when they finaaaally came to get me and wheeled me into theatre. 

They were nice, it was calm, the radio was on as per. They prepped me and set up all the equipment and everything. I had to wear one of those hair nets and I looked like a right twat, but hey just gimme that PICC line and gimme it now!! The procedure took maybe 2 and a half minutes. It hurt less than most of the cannulations that I'd had before because they gave me local anesthetic and before I knew it I was wheeled back to the same recovery room with the same man behind the blue curtain in bay 2. 

...They forgot about me. The time I was in theatre was so short and theyd obviously been busy tending to the man next to me (his name was Brian) that they didn't realise I'd already been and come back. They thought they were still waiting for the surgeons to collect me. Reality was, I was waiting for them to call a porter to come and collect me. Anyway I was waiting around with a bit of a headache just wanting to get out of there and back into bed for another half an hour before they realised. I got so frustrated I was kicking my legs around in the hopes they would notice me lol (spoilt brat since 1994 xox). While I was out of recovery poor Brians bowels had obviously had a bit of a stir and he was begging to go to the toilet. But it was too soon after his surgery for him to be mobile and he had to be hooked up to the oxygen tank so popping to the loo wasnt an option. I felt so sorry for him because he was desperate and trying to maintain any last bit of dignity he had left. They offered him the bed pan and brought over a commode but all he wanted to do was poop in a cubicle privately. At one stage he was wrestling about 5 people trying to escape and in the end he had to give in and use the portable toilet. My heart felt for him but I really wish they just hadnt have forgotten about me so I didnt have to sit and endure the smell of fresh drug poo linger for so long. 

Anyway, the porter finally came and I was wheeled back up to my little blue cave, reunited with two of the friendliest faces and trashiest magazines. Since my PICC line has been fitted life has become ten thousand times easier. I have no feeling of anxiety when the nurse walks past and I'm able to get the drugs that make me feel good again! And me and Sonny can be pals once more because theres no chance of him accidently pulling out this one. Well there is, but that would have to be an almighty tug and I doubt it would ever come to that. Eugh don't even want to imagine that. Disgusting.