I got called at 10:30 this morning to be re-admitted for round 2 of chemo...for 12:30! That's right, two hours' notice. Never mind a DAY'S notice, which I thought I was gonna get (and which I thought would be too short notice as it is), but two hours. And the call woke me up; I was sleeping in and felt like shit as I had nearly an entire bottle of wine last night, and my body is NOT used to having alcohol. I REFUSED to get out of bed until Mike came home to take me to the hospital as they called him as well, and he called them back and managed to negotiate and extra hour for me to get ready. I felt like crap and indulged in my hangover rountine, which involves weed, greasy food, and lots and lots of coffee. So I then had less than three hours to gather and pack my stuff and mentally prepare myself for another hospital stay, all while hungover and high as a kite. Good times. As I wrote on my Facebook, ca commence bien (we're off to a good start!).
When we got to the hospital we found out I didn't even have my own room. I have a shared room with a lady who's waaaaayyyyy off worse than I am. I recognize her from when I was here the last time, actually. She seems to be in really bad shape and seems really nice and much more friendly than I am. It's too bad I'm so anti-social or I'd find out what her story is. Anyway, I'm not going to be neutropenic during my stay so I don't need a private room, so I understand why I'm here. I feel bad complaining 'cause honestly, this lady is in baaaad shape. She can't even get out of bed or walk or anything. Omg. I feel so sorry for her. But I bet the fucking last thing she wants is pity.
Anyway, it's 11:42 PM and I've been getting chemo for a little over an hour now. They're doing it through a vein for now but apparently I'm getting a pic line tomorrow. I hope they do it through the arm again and not the chest (called a hickman)! I don't want a chest one. I already know I have to one for the transplant and that's blah enough.
But yeah, my vein. OK, so, apparently the chemo from last time really weakened my veins (and apparently this isn't too unusual), because the nurse, J, could not find a spot to insert the IV. I was stabbed with needles over and over again as she tried over the course of a half fucking HOUR to find a spot of my vein that could stand it; she had to be super certain that my vein was all right as this was chemo going through it, not just saline or some crap. So I lied there for a half hour as inserted a needle into different parts of my arm over and over. It hurt like a BITCH. Things got worse when I heard her start muttering under breath, and when the "fucks" and "...shits" started, that's when I started to worry a little.
Eventually another nurse, D, came in to try to help her, and D was told me how J was the QUEEN of IV inserts and if she couldn't find a good vein, then nobody could. And--here comes the gross part---they tried to force their way into a part of a vein that just couldn't take it and it broke and blood spurt out all over my arm. That too hurt like a bitch, and was really quite gross.
After a good half hour they finally found a spot on my wrist that withstood the IV, so huzzah. Now I'm getting chemotherapy that's quite different from last time. Some of its potential dangers include brain damage and kidney failure, but I'm not scared. Just the opposite; I'm pumped up! It's almost like a kind of training for my transplant, since I'm so scared of getting it due to all the possible dangers involved. So chemo is kind of like practice for that. I don't know if that makes any sense, the way I'm explaining it, but that's how I feel. It's hard to put into words. Anyway, I'm in the type of mood in which I feel like I can tackle anything, so I guess that's good! :)
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