Stop exaggerating about your veins!

I am what nurses and phlebotomists refer to as a "difficult stick." Or, when they want to sound even more harsh, I have "bad veins." (Like it's the veins' fault, and they should be ashamed of themselves for not being easily poked.) It is a very rare occasion that I have to get blood drawn or an IV put in that I don't come away with huge bruises and both arms mangled in several places.

This isn't anywhere close to the worst that it's ever been. It just happens to be the most recent. The guy who did it was very gentle, and got the IV started with relatively little trouble, but he did still have to dig around a bit before finding success.

This particular IV was being started by an anesthesiologist, and he actually seemed to take me seriously when I gave him the heads-up about the difficulty he could expect. He took his time and searched all around to find what he thought would be his best shot before attempting anything. And despite my reassurances that it was okay, and that I was used to it, he still seemed to genuinely feel bad that he had a hard time getting it started.

A few days before having that IV put in I had to have some blood drawn. That phlebotomist was not nearly as nice about things. When I sat down, I warned her about my history, like I always do. (I have found that sometimes this actually helps. Not always, but sometimes. Occasionally they will take me seriously, and if they are prepared for the "bad veins" I might come away slightly less mangled.)

But this was not one of those times. She sort of concealed the rolling of her eyes and then gave me that condescending half-smirk with a sarcastic "ok." (I totally expected her to pat me on top of the head.) I told her that I know everybody says that, but in my case it's actually true. She just gave me a kind of "uh-huh" that clearly translated to "Whatever. Just shut up and let me do my job." And then she proceeded to dig around in both of my arms before finding anything. ... Um, yeah. Told ya!

And it's not like I expected an apology, but some sort of "oh, you were right - guess I shouldn't have been so rude" acknowledgment would have been nice. But no. She continued to be a jerk the entire time.

At first I was irritated with her, and I started to let her attitude bother me a little. But then I thought back to the years when I had a job where I had to deal with the public daily, and I remembered how tempting it was sometimes to just tell people what I really thought of them. (Not that I ever did - but it was tempting.) So I still think she was much ruder and more unprofessional than she should have been, but I suppose that I can understand where she was coming from.

The problem, I realized, is that everyone and their grandmother says that they have bad veins. And some of us actually do. But not everyone does. (I had a nurse tell me one time that a lot of people say that because they had a painful blood draw in the past, or they had an IV started in the hospital where they aren't notoriously gentle, so they think it was "difficult," but really it was just unpleasant. And that's not the same thing.)

So if you are one of those people who doesn't come away from blood draws or IVs bruised and mangled, rejoice. Be proud of your good veins. Congratulate them on being where they should be and getting poked without a fight. And please, please don't ever tell anyone that you have bad veins. It makes them not believe those of us who really do.

Horses and Hospitals

I have a really itchy rash right now, thanks to a new deodorant that I will never buy again. (That's really not important, but I share just to illustrate why I thought of this particular story right now, and to prove that not everything floating around in my head is completely random.)

So as I was working my way through a tube of hydrocortisone cream, and whining to myself about how annoying rashes are, I wondered what it was in this particular deodorant that I am allergic to. That of course made me think of my "other known allergies." None of them led to a likely culprit, but thinking about it did remind me of something kind of funny.

When I was admitted to the hospital before having my daughter, the nurse who did my paperwork took a very thorough history, and it took a really long time, because I have so many things wrong with me. But she was determined not to miss anything. So when we got to the "allergies" section, I said something to the effect of "No. Nothing relevant." To which she replied "Oh, no. I'm not leaving anything blank on you." (Thanks for the subtle dig about how complicated I am, by the way. That's a wonderful thing to do to a pregnant woman.)

So I kind of rolled my eyes, and said "Well I'm allergic to horses, but I don't think that's going to be an issue here in the hospital." The sarcasm was apparently lost on her, because my hospital records now include an alert that I am allergic to horses.

Thanks to the many complications I encountered during the pregnancy, that hospital stay lasted nearly three weeks before my daughter was finally born. So that was three weeks of every new nurse, or aide, or anyone else that walked into my room with my chart saying "Ok, and you're allergic to..." [looks down at chart, then up at me with a confused look] "...horses?"

The confused look, coupled with the am-I-talking-to-a-crazy-person? tone of voice suggested that they thought I was the one who felt like my horse allergy was a necessary component of my hospital records. Like I was afraid that there was a good chance that I would encounter a horse during my stay, and was thus trying to prevent it. So each time I explained why it was in my chart, hoping that they would understand the sarcasm and stop looking at me like that.

In retrospect, it probably would have been a lot funnier if, instead of explaining the back story, I had just pulled the blanket up over my head and yelled "Yes! Please don't let them come in here again!" On the other hand, that just might have landed me in a different ward of the hospital, so I guess it's probably best that I didn't do it.

Why I Hate Medical Dramas

Ok, I don't actually hate them. That's a bit of an exaggeration. I've been known to watch a few... Grey's Anatomy, House, the seasons of ER that didn't suck. But when I recently watched the premier of Off the Map (out of curiosity, just to see if it had potential), there was a moment in the show that made me realize just how many times I had seen the exact same thing. And how annoying it is.

You've seen it too. There is a moment - maybe not in every episode of every show, but still ridiculously often - when the patient is pouring her heart out to the doctor. At first the doctor is in a hurry, and not in the mood to deal with the patient's annoying problem. But then he remembers the lesson that he's trying to learn this week, so he stops, focuses, and decides that this time he's actually going to listen. The patient emotionally describes her background story in incredible detail. The doctor listens, his heart slowly being softened. (You can tell this by the glassy-eyed look, the slight tilt of the head, and the poignant music playing in the background.) When the patient finishes her teary soliloquy, the doctor takes her hand, gives it a gentle pat, and with the most sincere and determined face that he can manage tells her that he is going to do everything he can to make it all better.

Now, I can't say with any authority that this never happens in real life. I haven't been to every doctor in the world. But I think it's fair to say that I have been to more than my share. I have a touching back story. I can do a teary soliloquy. But I've never had a doctor take my hand and tell me that he's going to do everything he can to make it all better. Not even close. It's been rare that a doctor has ever even pretended to care a little bit, let alone deeply and sincerely. (I'm not bitter, any more. It just is what it is.) Pretty much, in my experience, the doctors deal with you only as much as they have to, and then they're gone.

On a not completely unrelated note... I finally heard back from my surgeon's assistant. (Bet you didn't see where this post was going, did you?) She told me that the surgeon had looked at the CT scan, and that everything looked fine (nothing out of place, etc., etc.) She said that she could still schedule me an appointment if I want... but... you know... everything looked fine, so....

As touching is her obvious desire to help me was, I decided not to bother. (Why drive to an office an hour away and pay $40 just to hear "everything looks fine..." again?) Fortunately for me, that weird extra pain that I was having has pretty much worked itself out anyway. I'll probably never know what was causing it, but now at least I know that there is no obvious underlying problem that needs to be fixed. So that's something.

I haven't made my mind up yet about Off the Map. I might give it one more chance. But I'm pretty sure that I've seen my surgeon for the last time.

What would you do?

My two-year-old daughter has this new thing lately where she comes to any kind of intersection (such as a hallway or door), stops, points, and says "Now which way do I go? This way? This way? Or this way?" Yes, she picked it up from Dora the Explorer. And yes, it's very cute when she does it.

This comes to mind at the moment because I currently find myself at a bit of a crossroads... and I'm not sure which way I should go.


I still have no answers about the post-op "complications" that I told you about. I've had blood work done, and I've had a CT scan done, and both showed no sign of an infection... so I'm pretty sure that's not what is causing it. Good, maybe. But also not completely, since that was the only guess so far as to what it might have been, so we still have nothing.

I haven't been back to the surgeon yet - partly because it was such a headache to try to get him to see me, and partly because I was waiting for the CT results, because I figured he'd want to see everything I'd tried so far. (And partly because I was hoping it would show something, so I wouldn't have to keep trying to figure it all out.)

The good news is that the pain has gotten more tolerable. Most of the time it is less intense now than it was a month ago. I can move quite a bit more, and it doesn't constantly feel like I'm being sliced open. Between the stimulator and the pain meds, and my own self-healing, I'm dealing with it a lot better. The bad news is that it still isn't completely gone. I still can't sleep much, because laying down is still the most painful thing to try to do. (So when I do finally sleep, I wake up in even more pain.)

So on the one hand, I could keep trying to get the surgeon to see me. If he does, there is a chance that he will be able to figure out what's wrong, and help me fix it. There is also a chance that he will have no clue. He may run more tests, which may or may not tell us anything. Or he may just stall some more and hope that everything works itself out without any effort on his part. (Doctors have been known to do this.)

On the other hand, I could just give up on the doctors and continue dealing with this on my own. (Like I said, it is getting better. Maybe eventually it will just work itself out.) But what if it doesn't? How long do I "just keep dealing" with it? What if there is really something wrong that needs to be fixed, and having it go un-fixed is going to cause more serious problems down the road?

I honestly don't know what I want to do at this point. (And I only have two hands, so I can't really lay out any more options.) So now I'm asking you...

What would you do?

Still Trying, Part II

For those of you who are reading this blog because you are thinking about having a spinal cord stimulator implant, I say this: For your sake (and for the sake of your sanity) I hope very much that, if you do decide to have the surgery, you do not have any complications afterward. Because if you do, there is a fair chance that you will have a hard time getting them resolved.

This post is not a rant (well, not completely anyway) and I will try my best not to be snarky. But I do feel that I have to share with you what's been going on for the last several weeks, for the sake of honesty, and of full disclosure. That is, after all, the point of this blog.

So, I told you last month about the new, very wrong feeling pain that I've been having, and the declaration by the NP that I saw that it seemed to be "some sort of complication." She guessed that it could maybe be an infection, and ordered blood work. She also told me to go back to the surgeon to see if he could figure anything out.

Now, when I had my post-op follow up with the surgeon, he said that he probably wouldn't see me again, unless there were any complications, or anything went wrong. As much as I had hoped I would never see him again, it would appear that now I need to. Unfortunately, when I called his office to make an appointment, his assistant told me, basically, that once I'm out of surgery they're pretty much done with me, and my other doctor needs to deal with it. (I'm paraphrasing, but that's pretty darn close. She said it pretty harshly, too.) Needless to say, I felt very blown off.

After several phone calls to several different people, I finally learned today that the pain clinic sent another referral to the surgeon (which is apparently what they had to have before they would consider seeing me.) I also learned that they sent it 15 days ago! Apparently the surgeon's office is still in no hurry to help me. (You have to love how painfully slowly everything in the medical field moves.) So, now that I know about it, I will call the office again tomorrow, with my fingers crossed, and hopefully they will finally agree to see me.

I also found out today that, so says the blood work, the problem is not caused by an infection. I guess that's good, but in a way I was kind of disappointed, because at least then we would have known what was going on instead of having to continue the tests and the guessing. But now they want me to have a CT scan. (The NP kind of had the same look on her face as she did when she suggested the blood work. She doesn't know what the CT might show, but hopes that maybe it will show something, 'cause she doesn't really have any other ideas.)

She also gave me a prescription for morphine. So, if you've been wondering just how painful and miserable this whole thing has been, that might give you some idea.

So there we are. Still trying. Still hopeful. (Still frustrated, but I think you can understand why.) I still maintain that the surgery was a good thing, though, despite all that's happened since. And I still believe that once we can figure out what the "complications" are and take care of things, life will be grand.