That IV.
I do not like
that IV.
I do not like it.
I do not like it,
not one bit.
Would you like it here or there?
I would not like it here or there.
I would not like it anywhere.
Would you take it from a nurse?
She would really hear me curse.
Would you, could you just relax?
I'll defend me with an ax.
You will get one from the doc.
I could hit him with a rock.
IV's are easy in your arm.
I am violent; I'll do harm.
Nothing to it in your hand.
I could bury you in the sand.
You can do it, easy as pie.
That's a big fat rotten lie.
IV's aren't hard, it's in your head.
I might bolt right up from this bed.
You made Nurse Holly up and flee!
And now my arm is still so free.
IV's are just part of the rules.
Want to keep your family jewels?
I don't see why you have to fuss.
"Not 'til showtime" is a plus.
The doctor's here; it's time to go,
to get IV, I hope you know.
I hate IV.
I hate IV.
I do not like it,
even a bit.
I do not like them here or there.
I hate them, hate them everywhere.
It was too early.
I was surly.
But now the doctor's here.
He's always late.
I know my fate,
and now I will cooperate.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Thursday, March 10, 2011
I'm Just Writing to Bother You
I don't quite know what to do with myself, so I am bothering you. I took the day off from work so I could rest up for tomorrow. I'm heavily into the "mind over matter" thing, so I figured I would take care of a few phone calls and run an errand or two. Then I'd spend the day reading and mentally preparing for tomorrow. I took care of all the business I needed to take care of before noon. Since I'd not slept well last night I decided that the best place to read was upstairs in bed. I caught up on my sleep in one session, which means I caught up on my reading before and especially after the sleeping portion of my program. By the time I finished The Poisonwood Bible I was hungry. I ate a delicious healthy salad and three Chips Ahoy. I'm not sure what to do next while I'm essentially occupied with the ambiguous task of waiting for tomorrow morning at 4:15 when it will be time to get up and leave for the hospital. I am supposed to be there at 5:45 and the surgery is scheduled for 7:30. That means I will have approximately one hour and forty-five minutes of waiting in the hospital. And what am I worried about? I am worried that they will put in that stupid IV before they absolutely need to. I'm thinking 7:29:00 is a good time if I am unconscious by 7:29:30.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
The Staff of JFK Hospital Needs Your Prayers
As many of you know, I am having a minor surgery on Friday. Last night I entered a limited audience post on Facebook requesting prayer for my doctor and the nursing staff. I am confident that I will be just fine. In fact BP suggested that we cancel our plans to go to Games this Friday, especially since Rich is cooking Indian food. I courteously gave Rich and Velia a heads-up that it's remotely possible that I might back out at the last minute. But in my head, I fully intend to be eating dinner with them on Friday night. I do not know how well the doctor and nurses will be doing. They may need to cancel their Friday night plans in favor of just chilling out and recovering from me.
I have a checkered medical past. Several years ago I needed an operation on my foot. I was given a "twilight drug" which would block the pain but keep me sedated. I recall laying on the operating table. I was somewhat aware of a conversation taking place between the surgeon and the anesthesiologist. I remember wanting to take part in the conversation but not quite being able to. I heard the little circular saw go on and I remember my foot being held firmly against the surgeons hip. I couldn't feel anything, but I was awake and I wanted to tell the doctor that I could hear the saw. I think I tried to talk, but I was not being acknowledged. He kept jamming my foot into his hip. After awhile, determined to be heard, I sat up on the operating table. The anesthesiologist grabbed me by both shoulders and firmly pushed me back down. I don't remember anything else until I woke up. When I went for my post-surgical exam, I asked the doctor if I was the first patient to talk through an operation. He said, "No. But you were the first patient who ever moved through an entire operation."
This is why I am asking you to pray for Dr. Kline. Now I will tell you why you need to pray for the nursing staff. I fired a nurse this morning during my pre-admission testing. I was not a really happy camper from the start. I knew to expect a blood test and I was mentally prepared, or at least mentally resigned to the fact. What Dr. Kline did not mention, and I will be sure to mention it to him, is that I also had to get a chest x-ray and an EKG. As these are quick, painless, and non-invasive tests, I took them in stride with a perfectly amiable disposition. Then the very nice nurse who performed the EKG turned into something else- the person who would draw blood. (Just as aside, BP just asked if I was now writing about the nurse. He could tell by the sudden intensity of my keystrokes.) Anyway, she looked at my left arm. Then she looked at my right arm. She saw no veins. She looked at the backs of my hands. I promptly withdrew my hands and told her that the nurse at the doctor's office got blood out of my right arm and so should she. I suggested that my veins were not surfacing because I was dehydrated from not drinking, which she agreed was most likely true. I knew this because I have lived through this scene many times. She looked again at my left arm and then my right. Then she said she could feel a vein and she'd TRY to get it the first time; she'd just have to go deep. (The room is reeling now as I think about this.) It was now that I said, " I might pass out. I have to lay down. And no offense, but I want someone else to do this. There are people who can take blood from me. I want someone else." She said she did not take offense. The paperwork nurse came back and gave me orange juice. Then she offered me more and put a cold compress on my forehead. She called the lab to send a phlebotomist. I told her that I've never had trouble at a blood lab and she said, "That's because that's all they do all day." "I want someone who does this all day." She assured me that the lab would send someone of that description very soon. A middle aged Indian-looking woman came, spoke little, examined my arms, and took four vials of blood with no fuss, no muss, and no ramblings about deep veins and TRYING to get blood on the first try.
Oh, and pray especially for the poor soul who has to insert my IV.
I have a checkered medical past. Several years ago I needed an operation on my foot. I was given a "twilight drug" which would block the pain but keep me sedated. I recall laying on the operating table. I was somewhat aware of a conversation taking place between the surgeon and the anesthesiologist. I remember wanting to take part in the conversation but not quite being able to. I heard the little circular saw go on and I remember my foot being held firmly against the surgeons hip. I couldn't feel anything, but I was awake and I wanted to tell the doctor that I could hear the saw. I think I tried to talk, but I was not being acknowledged. He kept jamming my foot into his hip. After awhile, determined to be heard, I sat up on the operating table. The anesthesiologist grabbed me by both shoulders and firmly pushed me back down. I don't remember anything else until I woke up. When I went for my post-surgical exam, I asked the doctor if I was the first patient to talk through an operation. He said, "No. But you were the first patient who ever moved through an entire operation."
This is why I am asking you to pray for Dr. Kline. Now I will tell you why you need to pray for the nursing staff. I fired a nurse this morning during my pre-admission testing. I was not a really happy camper from the start. I knew to expect a blood test and I was mentally prepared, or at least mentally resigned to the fact. What Dr. Kline did not mention, and I will be sure to mention it to him, is that I also had to get a chest x-ray and an EKG. As these are quick, painless, and non-invasive tests, I took them in stride with a perfectly amiable disposition. Then the very nice nurse who performed the EKG turned into something else- the person who would draw blood. (Just as aside, BP just asked if I was now writing about the nurse. He could tell by the sudden intensity of my keystrokes.) Anyway, she looked at my left arm. Then she looked at my right arm. She saw no veins. She looked at the backs of my hands. I promptly withdrew my hands and told her that the nurse at the doctor's office got blood out of my right arm and so should she. I suggested that my veins were not surfacing because I was dehydrated from not drinking, which she agreed was most likely true. I knew this because I have lived through this scene many times. She looked again at my left arm and then my right. Then she said she could feel a vein and she'd TRY to get it the first time; she'd just have to go deep. (The room is reeling now as I think about this.) It was now that I said, " I might pass out. I have to lay down. And no offense, but I want someone else to do this. There are people who can take blood from me. I want someone else." She said she did not take offense. The paperwork nurse came back and gave me orange juice. Then she offered me more and put a cold compress on my forehead. She called the lab to send a phlebotomist. I told her that I've never had trouble at a blood lab and she said, "That's because that's all they do all day." "I want someone who does this all day." She assured me that the lab would send someone of that description very soon. A middle aged Indian-looking woman came, spoke little, examined my arms, and took four vials of blood with no fuss, no muss, and no ramblings about deep veins and TRYING to get blood on the first try.
Oh, and pray especially for the poor soul who has to insert my IV.
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