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.
Monday, February 7, 2011
I Worked Out Today
I just want to inform the world that I went to the gym this morning. I walked 32 minutes on the treadmill and did double sets on the circuit. I joined Planet Fitness last month and I committed myself to exercise every other day. I kept my commitment for a whole half week before some urgent matter called me off course. I don't remember what urgent matter offhand. Was that the day the President asked for my council on some issue of international security?
I restarted my program only to be interrupted by snow. There was the day I didn't go to the gym because the snow was accumulating quickly and it would be safer to get home and off the road. There was the day I worked out shoveling the driveway. There was the day the weather reporter said it might be icy. And there was the day it was snowing like crazy...in Chicago.
I have managed to work out between storms and taking care of the needs and potential needs of my family. But today I worked out. Yes, I want a medal.
I restarted my program only to be interrupted by snow. There was the day I didn't go to the gym because the snow was accumulating quickly and it would be safer to get home and off the road. There was the day I worked out shoveling the driveway. There was the day the weather reporter said it might be icy. And there was the day it was snowing like crazy...in Chicago.
I have managed to work out between storms and taking care of the needs and potential needs of my family. But today I worked out. Yes, I want a medal.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
Gina and the Superbowl Non-party
A funny thing happened since my last blog. Our family grew. No, there is no change-of-life baby. Our new addition, Gina, is two months younger than Tara. Gina is a friend of Tara's who found herself suddenly in need of a new home. Her mom has been incapacitated with a stroke, and well, she's here now and we are all very glad to have her. So in future blogs when I'm writing about Gina, you will kindly understand that I am not seeing imaginary kids, nor did we unwittingly fail to include an offspring in our 2010 or 2000 census surveys.
Tonight was our annual watching of the Superbowl. Just like last year we feasted on ginormous sandwiches from Harold's Deli. Unlike last year, nobody dropped an entire pastrami and liverwurst sandwich on the floor. Magic was sorely disappointed. Nobody was rooting for anyone in particular, except maybe BP. About halfway through the second quarter he decided Green Bay was looking good, so he declared himself rooting for the frontrunner. Because of the general lack of enthusiasm for the game, and probably due to being stuffed with deli meat, we were not a lively crew. Dee never made it here at all. Gene and Terry went home after half-time. Frank went home in the third quarter. I got an unexpected call on my cell phone. It was BP calling from the other couch to tell me to stop snoring. So I picked up and reread the magazine article I had been working on in between commercials. Woo hoo! Superbowl Party!
Tonight was our annual watching of the Superbowl. Just like last year we feasted on ginormous sandwiches from Harold's Deli. Unlike last year, nobody dropped an entire pastrami and liverwurst sandwich on the floor. Magic was sorely disappointed. Nobody was rooting for anyone in particular, except maybe BP. About halfway through the second quarter he decided Green Bay was looking good, so he declared himself rooting for the frontrunner. Because of the general lack of enthusiasm for the game, and probably due to being stuffed with deli meat, we were not a lively crew. Dee never made it here at all. Gene and Terry went home after half-time. Frank went home in the third quarter. I got an unexpected call on my cell phone. It was BP calling from the other couch to tell me to stop snoring. So I picked up and reread the magazine article I had been working on in between commercials. Woo hoo! Superbowl Party!
Saturday, January 15, 2011
Face to Face with Snowplowman
I didn't need to have faith in the weatherman. Schools were canceled so both Tara and I were off the hook. She was free to follow her delusion of pulling an all-nighter to work on her art portfolio. I was free to follow my delusion that I was still capable of pulling an all-nighter.
10:30 Tara gets home from work and announces that the roads are terrible and we should start shoveling. We gear up and easily clear the first couple of inches. A nice young Snowplowman in a yellow truck stops in front of the house to ask if we are going out. We tell him that we are not going anywhere, but intend to stay up all night and take care of the snow in small manageable increments. I do my best to impress upon him that I am incapable of shoveling large mountains of frozen snow plowed into the base of my driveway. He promises to try not to do that.
11:30 BP, Tara, and I are sitting around contentedly enjoying the fire and the knowledge that we have a snowday. There is an ominous crunching sound in front of the house. We leap up to investigate. An Evil Snowplowman in a blue truck has just pushed a three-foot mountain of frozen snow left over from the post-Christmas blizzard into the bottom of our driveway. I draft BP and the three of us go outside. BP and I shovel while Tara lifts and launches ice boulders onto where we estimate our sidewalk and front lawn to be.
1:00 BP is in bed. Tara and I shovel again. It is easy. Good Snowplowman is scraping by our curb. He sees Tara and straightens out the plow. She gives him a thumbs up.
1:30 Tara is finally drawing. I am playing a mindless adventure game on the computer.
2:00 I've had enough of the game, so I settle on the couch with my Kindle.
2:05 I don't know what Tara's doing because I am sound asleep on the couch.
3:00 Tara wakes me by announcing that it's time to shovel again. My body rises from the couch and puts on boots and coat. More mountain has been deposited at the base of the driveway. She gets to work on it while I start at the top. Soon Good Snowplowman comes. This time he slows, swerves gently into the bottom of the driveway, and moves the mountain to the side. An enemy has become my hero.
5:15 I wake up from my reading. Tara is no longer at the kitchen table or in the diningroom. I look outside and find her clearing the snow from her car. The snow has stopped falling and she has cleaned the driveway down to the pavers. She soon comes inside and I lavishly praise her handiwork. This is a behavior I clearly want to reinforce.
6:45 Postscript: The dog has not stayed up at all and comes down to announce breakfast time. I don't see Tara but note that her boots are next to the kitchen table. I assume she has gone to bed and contemplate doing the same. Then I hear Tara talking to me. I look up at the balcony but she is not there. She's not in the diningroom or the hall. She is still talking from very close by. I convince myself that I am really asleep. Then I look at the other couch and remember that the blue and yellow blanket had been dropped on the floor in a heap. It is now in a heap on the other couch and Tara is curled up in a ball under it. She seems to be sleeptalking. She didn't do much by way of artwork, but what a job on the driveway! She made it all the way to sunrise, which is more than I can say for myself.
10:30 Tara gets home from work and announces that the roads are terrible and we should start shoveling. We gear up and easily clear the first couple of inches. A nice young Snowplowman in a yellow truck stops in front of the house to ask if we are going out. We tell him that we are not going anywhere, but intend to stay up all night and take care of the snow in small manageable increments. I do my best to impress upon him that I am incapable of shoveling large mountains of frozen snow plowed into the base of my driveway. He promises to try not to do that.
11:30 BP, Tara, and I are sitting around contentedly enjoying the fire and the knowledge that we have a snowday. There is an ominous crunching sound in front of the house. We leap up to investigate. An Evil Snowplowman in a blue truck has just pushed a three-foot mountain of frozen snow left over from the post-Christmas blizzard into the bottom of our driveway. I draft BP and the three of us go outside. BP and I shovel while Tara lifts and launches ice boulders onto where we estimate our sidewalk and front lawn to be.
1:00 BP is in bed. Tara and I shovel again. It is easy. Good Snowplowman is scraping by our curb. He sees Tara and straightens out the plow. She gives him a thumbs up.
1:30 Tara is finally drawing. I am playing a mindless adventure game on the computer.
2:00 I've had enough of the game, so I settle on the couch with my Kindle.
2:05 I don't know what Tara's doing because I am sound asleep on the couch.
3:00 Tara wakes me by announcing that it's time to shovel again. My body rises from the couch and puts on boots and coat. More mountain has been deposited at the base of the driveway. She gets to work on it while I start at the top. Soon Good Snowplowman comes. This time he slows, swerves gently into the bottom of the driveway, and moves the mountain to the side. An enemy has become my hero.
5:15 I wake up from my reading. Tara is no longer at the kitchen table or in the diningroom. I look outside and find her clearing the snow from her car. The snow has stopped falling and she has cleaned the driveway down to the pavers. She soon comes inside and I lavishly praise her handiwork. This is a behavior I clearly want to reinforce.
6:45 Postscript: The dog has not stayed up at all and comes down to announce breakfast time. I don't see Tara but note that her boots are next to the kitchen table. I assume she has gone to bed and contemplate doing the same. Then I hear Tara talking to me. I look up at the balcony but she is not there. She's not in the diningroom or the hall. She is still talking from very close by. I convince myself that I am really asleep. Then I look at the other couch and remember that the blue and yellow blanket had been dropped on the floor in a heap. It is now in a heap on the other couch and Tara is curled up in a ball under it. She seems to be sleeptalking. She didn't do much by way of artwork, but what a job on the driveway! She made it all the way to sunrise, which is more than I can say for myself.
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
How Much Faith Should I Place on the Weatherman?
I have a dilemma. The snowblower gave out last winter and we never replaced it. There is a major snowstorm coming. I will be shoveling. Here's the problem. I could stay up all night shoveling a few inches at a time. If I'm lucky I could even be out there when Snowplowman comes.
Snowplowman will come after you have spent hours digging out. He will empty the entire accumulation of the street into your clean driveway. When you clear out the new pile, he'll come again. And again. He is relentless but he can be warded off. I have learned that he will not dump on you if you stare him down. Yes, I have stood guard in my driveway. I have posted myself, and my children, shovels in hand, at the base of the driveway, double-dog-daring him to do it while we were standing there. And he backed down. This was a serious moment of triumph for me.
He did, however, get revenge. After another storm I had shoveled myself out early and left to go shopping. When I returned he had snow-piled me out of my own driveway.
I get so worked up thinking about Snowplowman that I digress from my original intent. The best thing for me to do is stay up all night and shovel a couple of inches at a time. Then tomorrow when everyone else is partaking of the Big Dig, I will be sleeping upstairs in a warm bed. But, what if, by some bizarre twist of fate, I stay up all night chasing the snow off my pavers, and school is not called off. What if it's a snowy night not followed by a snow day? It's been known to happen. The snow that was supposed to start soon after dark has not started at 7:40. So... how much faith do I place on the weatherman?
Snowplowman will come after you have spent hours digging out. He will empty the entire accumulation of the street into your clean driveway. When you clear out the new pile, he'll come again. And again. He is relentless but he can be warded off. I have learned that he will not dump on you if you stare him down. Yes, I have stood guard in my driveway. I have posted myself, and my children, shovels in hand, at the base of the driveway, double-dog-daring him to do it while we were standing there. And he backed down. This was a serious moment of triumph for me.
He did, however, get revenge. After another storm I had shoveled myself out early and left to go shopping. When I returned he had snow-piled me out of my own driveway.
I get so worked up thinking about Snowplowman that I digress from my original intent. The best thing for me to do is stay up all night and shovel a couple of inches at a time. Then tomorrow when everyone else is partaking of the Big Dig, I will be sleeping upstairs in a warm bed. But, what if, by some bizarre twist of fate, I stay up all night chasing the snow off my pavers, and school is not called off. What if it's a snowy night not followed by a snow day? It's been known to happen. The snow that was supposed to start soon after dark has not started at 7:40. So... how much faith do I place on the weatherman?
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