No one likes needles. And if you do, you’re crazy. At the beginning of this crazy ride needles scared me to death, I would squirm and about make myself sick, just with the anticipation. But as time went on I adjusted. I assured myself that if I took deep breaths and let the nurse do their thing, it would be over quick. I got to be a real good sport, as long as no one would talk during the IV attempt.
But no way it could be that easy. Each time a nurse would inspect my arms they’d comment on the scarce good veins I had to offer. Since I was usually going in pretty dehydrated, I knew that wasn’t helping things. At the beginning of this year I only had a few bad IV experiences to show for it. That was at the beginning.
In October I started my 15 day hospital stay in Chicago. My first IV ended up infected and really painful. At 2am my night nurse agreed that it had to be changed. After careful inspection she couldn’t get another line started and called the pediatric nurse in to try, he got a tiny IV started, but it would have to do. Being in my hand it wasn’t very protected and by the next day I had knocked it into a nerve. Bye-bye IV #2. My nurses decided a picc line was my best bet, and I was happy to try it. A picc meant I could get all of my meds and blood drawls via that one line. Sweet.
So into the OR I go. Dr. Hickey was gorgeous, seriously. The two nurses were hilarious, but it was my first time getting a “surgical procedure” and the nurse swinging a tall needle full of lidocaine around definitely knocked up the nerve scale. Don’t worry, I made it through, no harm, no foul.
Unfortunately I ended up really sore and uncomfortable, all signs pointed to blood clot. After a quick ultrasound it was confirmed that I had, indeed, already developed a clot around my picc. It was still superficial and was taken care of with daily blood thinner shots in my tummy…ouch!
Fast forward to Decemeber. Another 9 day Chicago hospital trip resulted in a blown vein, and three more IVs. Yay.
Now, skip ahead to March. Yep, you guessed it, another Chicago hospital stay. This one 11 days inpatient. IV #1 was a placed really well in my right hand, but since IVs can only be left in for 4 days it had to be replaced. IV #2 was placed with some trouble in my left hand, but I still got 3 days out of it. IV #3 took 2 tries, but ended up in the bend of my left arm. Unfortunately, the vein was just too small and on day two the line had to be removed. Keep in mind that 3 of the meds I get via IV are terrible for my veins, so as time moves on my veins just kept getting worse. IV #4 was almost impossible to get placed. A last resort attempt earned the IV a spot in the bend of my right arm. The next morning my day nurse came to push my first round of Benadryl. It hurt so bad. Benadryl literally slices your veins and hurts, but usually I just wince. When the nurse reattached my fluids I was doubled over in pain. I knew something was not okay, and myself stopped the fluids from running. I called my nurse in and she checked the blood return, normal for my weak veins, she said. She started trying to flush with saline and I started crying. I had to yell at her to stop. I needed to listen to my body. I’m no IV whimp and this hurt sooo bad.
That was at 10:30 in the morning, by 1:30 that afternoon my nurse hadn’t been back in for any of her rounds or to give any of my afternoon meds I needed. I called in the charge nurse, who just happened to be one of the nurses I’ve stayed tight with. My arm was so swollen I had to cut the bracelets off, it was sore to the touch and a rash had started to follow the line of my vein. Vickki was concerned with my history of blood clot and had that IV out right away. That meant I had earned myself my 5th IV in 11 days. Boo. I left that trip with painful arms, collapsed veins and bad infiltration. No Bueno.
Finally, one Thursday no one could get a line started. Infusion called a NICU nurse just to try. She gave it three shots and ended up blowing all three veins. There was no where left to try. My neurologist ordered another picc line. They set up ultrasound to look for the best placement option. Instead, all they found were tiny unhealthy veins that were unuseable. Ugh. Unable to get my treatment, they set up an appointment to get a tunneled picc in my chest on Tuesday.
I had done my research on all my options and had decided that instead, a portacath would be my best option. I had to fight my doctor on it, but stood strong that was what I wanted. A port is completely under your skin, so it doesn’t restrict you as much as a tunneled picc or Hickman line. I would be getting a power port placed right under my collar bone. Finally.
So, after two attempts to draw blood and six attempts to place an IV so I could be put out the surgeon decided to place a special catheter. He tented, sanatized, and numbed the site before placing the catheter. He got it all the way in before discovering an unknown blood clot and had to remove it from my left arm. He repeated the process on a new spot in my right arm and finally got it. But it was so sensitive that a nurse had to stand and hold it in place while the meds dripped in.
The port placement takes roughly 45 minutes, mine took almost 2 hours. The first hour was spent trying to get accsses. Ouch. But now the port is in place and healing nicely. Thank goodness!!!
I’ve had it accessed three times now, and it is definitely tolerable compared to the multiple sticks previously. Yay!