On my way to losing a marathon!

Saturday, September 1, 2012

Superpower results are in!!

September 1st.  New month.  New weight loss.  New medical issues to contend with.  Let's git 'er started, y'all.

The radiation procedure went okay.  I was disappointed to see that it was apparently a "very small dosage" of radiation, and my pee didn't even glow.  Which makes me highly doubt that I will gain any superpowers, as I assume that glowing pee would typically come before the flying.

The most exciting part was that I got to experience what it's like to get the same IV 3 separate times, and I learned a new word:  Infiltration.  Okay, so it's not a new word, but I used to think it was only something that the FBI did to the mob, or Russian spies did to local American high schools.  NOW, I have learned that it means the crackpot nurse who just roughly shoved a syringe into the back of your IV actually shoved so hard that she shoved that needle straight out the other side of your vein and into some other tissue.  I also learned, that when you tell the same stupid nurse that, "hey, this hurts now, and it feels like there's a lot of pressure", she'll laugh like YOU'RE an idiot and say that, "well, there's no fluid going in yet, so that really shouldn't be a problem."  Then, she'll wiggle it around and poke at the needle part and when the IV machine beeps at her to say "hey you Flaming Ass Wipe, you infiltrated it,"  she'll say it "probably got clogged" and then say she has to flush it, and then will thoughtlessly shoot a syringe full of burning liquid into the tissue in your arm, immediately blowing it up like a water balloon.  After 10 or so minutes of this, she'll realize the problem, blame the equipment, and infiltrate your hand instead.  Finally, she'll place a SUCCESSFUL IV (WOW!  Look at you! Hoooooray!  Now you can move on to learning to successfully clean bedpans*!!) into your other arm, leaving you looking like a pincushion owned by a drunk seamstress who loves to stab things.

And, I'm not crying.  I'm not crying about getting needles poked in me because I am a wife and a mother and most importantly a grown up and I'm not afraid of needles poked in my arm and I CAN HANDLE PAIN, I CAN HANDLE PAIN, I CAN HANDLE PAIN.  But excuse me if my eyes start to... leak... a little bit.  I promise I'm not crying, my eyes just ALSO decided it was about time for a good flushing.  I'm not crying.

Oh, and did I mention that this nurse tells me she's been a nurse for over 20 years?!? Which I think begs the question, HOW CAN YOU DO THE SAME DANG JOB FOR SO DANG LONG AND BE SO DANG BAD AT IT?!???


But you know what, this mental conversation has got me thinking (wah wah):  It seems I may have had a superpower all along.  That is, assuming you can call magnetically attracting the absolute worst members of the medical profession and inviting them to put needles into all of your places a super power.  And I do.

*I'm gonna go ahead and apologize here and anywhere else for the twenty seven thousand nurses and doctors that I know personally and who might read this.  I don't mean to impugn your profession.  I just wish that there was some sort of standard of practices... maybe a licensing board?  to weed out the "professionals" who are going to cause permanent damage to your central nervous system because they cannot figure out where the needles are supposed to go.


  1. I'm so sorry about your rough time with the IV. When do you find out results? I'll be keeping you in my prayers!!

  2. Results come in early this next week, but my GI appointment isn't till the 11th, so I'm guessing I won't get answers until then. I'm partially convinced it's something stupid along the lines of, "Hey lady, you're almost 30. You're just not allowed to eat most food any more. Suck it." But we'll see. Thanks for your prayers!!


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