Bad stick

I had a terrible day on Friday. I know, it seems like I have a lot of terrible days, but on this one I think you’ll agree.

I had an appointment at 9:15am to check in for a CT scan. The surgeon ordered it because he wanted a little more medical evidence that standard treatment (primarily dietary) is not working and that surgical treatment is now the next best option. They told me not to eat or drink anything after 6:45am, to come in and drink a contrast solution and then get scanned at 10:45. Sounds pretty straightforward, yes?

I showed up on time, signed in, filled out the paperwork, answered some questions and was handed a large styrofoam cup filled with a thick, milky looking substance – plus a plastic container with another cupful in it. The receptionist smiles up at me and says, “you’re in luck – this is a new flavor! Drink the first cup in the next 10 minutes and then finish the rest before an hour is up.” I smiled right back at her, refrained from commenting and had a seat.

Think of the flavor of this “solution” as white chalk, like your kids might use to draw on the driveway, mashed up and mixed with body lotion, a few drops of berry flavoring, served at room temperature moments after being run through a carburetor. It’s actually worse than that. The receptionist saw me gagging a little and warned me that if I threw any of it up, we’d have to start all over. So I steeled myself – and drank it all in one shot. Then poured the rest of it into the cup and drank it all down too. *shiver*

Ok, so now my stomach is a little upset, I’m still a little nervous about the implications of this scan, and I’ve got to go to the bathroom. I’m not a very happy camper! I took care of my business and sat down with my book and tried to block everything out until the tech called my name. Then it got REALLY ugly.

I walked in, laid down on the little bench and tried to take deep breaths. The tech is really nice and tells me that she’s going to put in the IV for the iodine contrast, scan me, and have me out of there in 10 minutes.  She spends a long time looking for a good vein for the IV, tells me to expect a stick, and goes for it.  And gets nothing.  She tries again, this time on my other arm. Nothing. She tries a third time, back on the first arm, almost gets it…. but no.

She calls a nurse from somewhere who comes down and says she’d like to try this little trick. She lays a warm, wet towel on my left hand for a minute or so and then tries. DANG that hurts! She digs around for a bit. Nothing. “Ok, I’ve got one more trick,” she says. She puts a blood pressure cuff around my right arm – pumps it up – and looks for a vein in my wrist. One – two – three – poke. OUCH! All for nothing. This nurse then looks at me and says, “Since we can’t seem to get access, we’ll probably have to have you reschedule.” Are you kidding me????  I looked her in the eye and said, “No. Lets find ourselves a nice paramedic or flight nurse or something. I have veins and someone is going to get into one. There is no way I’m drinking that crap again.”

I might not have sounded quite as calm as I’m sure it reads.

All in all, I got stuck SEVEN times before they got an IV in, thanks to the help of a PA with an ultrasound machine. Even then, it was only about halfway in and was extrememly fragile. Which made the iodine injection really fun. But only 5 minutes after the injection – the scan was over – and I was on my way.

No results yet.