One more thing out of the way . . .
Had the CT scan done yesterday afternoon. They said they would try to get the results to my oncologist by next Wednesday (when I’m scheduled to start chemo) but they couldn’t promise anything. I guess without the results I’ll be started on “chemo light” … and here’s hoping that I won’t need any other treatment.
So, I needed both a thorax and abdominal scan. The worst part was that two hours before the scan I had to start drinking AN ENTIRE LITRE of barium sulfate mixed with water. I almost hurled after the first sip – it was like drinking strawberry flavoured snot – so you can imagine how awful it was to chug down a whole fucking litre of this gack over a two-hour period. Then I had to get some radioactive stuff injected into me for the thorax scan. It took ages for the guy to find a usable vein, so that was quite painful. But the test itself only took about ten minutes.
After it was all over I asked Nog if he minded walking home instead of taking the bus. It’s about a 45-minute walk from the hospital but some of it is through Maria Luisa Park and it had been ages since I’d been there. Of course I hadn’t taken into account that it was about 36º and so by the time we were getting close to home the idea of tackling THE STAIRS without a rest was just too much. So we stopped at ay Maricrú and I de-gacked with a nice chilled glass of white wine.
Meanwhile, I’m a bit concerned about the vein situation. I’ve always had hard-to-find veins and when I was at the private hospital they used the veins in my hands to take blood samples (ouch!) and eventually for the IV thingy. When I got to the public hospital the first thing one of the nurses did was change it (using my other hand) saying that it hadn’t been put in very well. And when I woke up from the op I had the IV thingy in my neck – I guess the hand veins were no longer an option.
So I’m wondering how they are going to inject the chemo stuff every three weeks if they can’t find any usable veins. 😕
casa azahar 
I think if it comes to it, with the vein thing, they can put in something like a stent or a shunt (not sure of the right terminology) that can stay there and they can inject through it every time.
I don’t think that is hugely pleasant but better (and quicker) than playing “hunt the vein” every time you need a dose. It would also be much easier than what you’ve already been throug, I think.
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I’ll be keeping my fingers crossed for good results.
Like BBJP said, I think that a stent is a possibility. I believe it’s called a port for chemo.
That barium sounds awful. I don’t think “strawberry flavoured snot” would make a popular ice cream flavor. (Or flavour.) I’m glad you had a chance to clear your palette with some wine.
I’ve been thinking of you often, Az.
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I was told that the line was a no go. They CERTAINLY wouldn’t have put in a central line. So it’s probably pincushion time for you, my dear. You could probably demand a PICC line – which is a semi-permanent one that goes into the vein in your arm under a local and is held in by a couple of stitches. But give cannulation a go. Most chemo nurses can hit a vein a 50 paces, and are vastly superior at ir than their medical and surgical counterparts, I found.
The line in your neck would have been standard procedure, and nothing to do with the quality (or lack thereof) of your veins. Large veins in neck = wide bore cannula put in while you’re asleep = quick way of getting lots of fluid in if it all goes tits up.
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There you go – info from people who know more about it than me (not a difficult thing to find).
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I donated a sample of blood the other day in hopes they might be able to use my marrow for a colleague seriously ill with leukemia. (very slim chance it’s a match, but we all tried anyway)
Anyway my left arm looks like I’ve been in a fight. Bruised and battered. Isn’t that the worst they can do to you if they can’t find a vein? Or is it that painful?
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That port thing looks kinda scary, alejna.
Though being a pincushion doesn’t sound very pleasant either, Sara. Yes, I’ve noticed a vasty difference in vein finding skills over the past few weeks. And I’ve still got half a dozen marks on my neck from the op IV line – looks like I was attacked by a very inept vampire. I wonder why they made so many holes.
“Isn’t that the worst they can do to you if they can’t find a vein? Or is it that painful?”
I don’t tend to exaggerate pain, ian. Almost got me killed, putting up with the excrutiating “gastroenteritis” pain for as long as I did.
I usually don’t notice any pain (just a slight pinch) when someone is able to find an arm vein to jab, though sometimes there is bruising afterwards. The hand veins hurt a lot more and especially when someone has about five goes at it. I was just about ready to scream yesterday before the guy finally found one he could use.
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Emla cream? local anaesthetic cream that you put on the backs of your hands for 20 mins prior to cannulation, and it numbs it completely. They normally use it for kids, but plenty of folks on the day ward had it. I just cried and threatened to bite people 😉
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hand veins are the WORST – I absolutely refuse to have them. Az, they’ll probably use a port and it won’t cause you any problems
and Sara is right, experienced chemo nurses give great needle 🙂
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the port isn’t a bad option if offered – once you get past the ‘blechh’ factor, it is relatively painless (dad had one). since you’re looking at 18 treatments, that would likely be enough to justify the minor procedure that goes along with the installation of the port… best thing to do is articulate your past experience with ‘vein trouble’ to your oncologist, express your concerns about the pincushion route, and see what options are available.
oh, and barium sulfate? double blechh… sending hugs, warm thoughts and preparing to stock up on the Orville Redenbacher Popcorn!
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That strawberry flavoured snot sounds yuckyful. I dread having needles of any kind but blood tests are the pits! Rest when needed, and a glass of chilled wine sounds like a great prescription 🙂
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Eight treatments, daisy, not eighteen. If I start next Wednesday as planned then my last one should be mid-November.
The woman at my usual analysis clinic has been taking my blood for years and always manages to find a vein in my arm, so it’s not impossible. She never leaves any bruising either.
I’m usually okay with needles as long as I don’t look, Archie. I can’t even watch when they show people having injections on tv shows or in films.
Having said that, I had to inject myself with something for my circulation the first ten days I was home from hospital (since I wasn’t moving around much). It just required stabbing myself in the belly – no veins! – so that wasn’t too bad. Still, I was glad when I didn’t have to do it anymore.
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Fingers and toes crossed, but I know it will all work out fine. They may suggest a *shunt* which is a kind of temporary vein hook up. It isn’t as bad as it sounds as long as you keep it clean and the cats away from it. (Shiny thing! Shiny thing!)
Take care, both of you.
Big bear hug.
C
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Yeah, them dern cats. I still have to be very aware of them in bed so they don’t decide to take a shortcut across my belly when going from one side of the bed to the other. Sunny has eventually got the idea that he had to detour around my feet (he’s such a dog) but Azar prefers doing an Evel Kneival leap – and sometimes doesn’t quite make it across (ouch!).
Azar also likes shiny things … I wonder if he’d end up hiding the shunt (with me attached) in his lair under the bed.
Thanks for the bear hug, Craig. 🙂
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Az, this all sounds pretty uncomfortable and icky, so I just wanted you to know that I’m thinking of you every day, even if I’m not online 🙂
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hi Az!
I second Truce’s words.
Todo va a ir bien!
Im glad to see that you keep your sense of humour. That’s good.
About chemio:
Do you know that some people take Marihuana to calm down the wish of vomiting produced by Chemiotherapy?
If you don’t want to smoke it, you can toast it in oil for a few seconds and put that oil with the grass on a slice of bread.
Dont worry. Everything is gonna be alright.
Un abrazo
Mar
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Hola Mar!
I’m afraid that weed just makes my heart race and gets me all paranoid, so I don’t think that would be a good anti-nausea option for me.
My yoga buddy Diane sent me an email yesterday saying…
I think I quite like that, especially as I was seriously in need of some lifestyle changes. It’s curious that the day I had planned on starting a two-week ‘body cleansing’ thang was the same day the belly pain started. I was really needing a change, and I have to say that aside from the surgery and now the scary limbo time of not knowing if there is more cancer lurking in my body, all of this has certainly shaken things up and for the better.
I’m so scared about what they are going to tell me on Wednesday. I don’t want it to be all over yet. Damn, I hope I get another chance to do it right.
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I find it impossible to be anything other than optimistic for you.
I don’t know if that sort of positive thought will help, but as far as I am concerned, you will be there, doing what you do, for some considerable time yet.
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cariño, don’t be scared please. I know I’m watching the bull from the safest side and you are who is facing the issue, but I think, after talking with my in-law nurse that , that process of chemio etc. although nothing pleasant, it is one more frequent than what people think about and a process where the mood and medical treatment helps a lot to overcome it successfully.
Don’t worry dear, you are a fighter woman, you will get over all this. No doubt.
A change you say…
I’m at home from 17th April without moving. I had my Achilles tendon sewn two weeks ago…
A lot of time to think of many things … although I feel really fed up with this problem, I’m trying to make the best of this compulsory holidays. I also see this situation as an opportunity to consider a change about a few things…
take care
besitos
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I am prepping this morning for the CT scan, and am drinking the two bottles of barium sulfate. Mine is “berry smoothie” flavored. I share in your disgust for this stuff. I wonder if i could get away with not drinking all of it. I did read about a study that said they found whole milk to be almost as effective as the barium sulfate.
Anyway, good luck to you. This cancer thing sucks. I’ve been battling metastatic inflammatory breast cancer for a year now.
It was nice to read someone else’s experience who GETS what I am going through!!!!
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Hi Amber, and welcome!
I wonder why they even bother trying to make that shit palatable by adding so-called fruit flavours. I knew just looking at the vile chewing-gum pink colour of the stuff that it was going to be totally gack-making.
I’ve been over to your blog and will start visiting regularly. *hug*
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Hang in there, kiddo! I found when procedures got me down, to close my eyes and dig up a really pleasant or beautiful memory — only way I could complete the MRI (being *very* claustrophobic!) was to remember watching a cardinal out my window on a lovely snowy day…
and I didn’t open my eyes again, until they got me out of there. (HUGS)
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