My PICC Line

I woke up at the early time of 6:15, got my clothes together, mixed my morning Miralax & water, and took a shower, and took my vitamins while drinking my Mirawater. At 6:55 my mom picked me up and took me to the hospital - my grandma couldn't watch the girls until around 9:30 so Bryan had to stay home with them for awhile.

At the hospital, the RT (respiratory therapist) took me to the 2nd floor in the G.I. Lab room 6 and started getting everything ready. She explained the pros and cons of the PICC line and had me sign a consent form. I was pretty nervous about it since all she was going to give me was Lidocaine to numb me and I would be fully alert during the procedure.

She used an ultrasound to find a good vessel to enter and found one right away; however once she injected the numbing agent something happened and the vessel wasn't cooperating anymore. She insert the very long catheter, but couldn't get it to draw so she pulled it out. She spent some time trying to find another, and finally did. This time she gave me only a little lidocaine at a time and kept the ultrasound on the spot she wanted to enter to keep her eye on it. After a few injections, I finally was numb enough and she inserted the catheter, and did her thing with the dressing. As we waited for the portable x-ray to come, my heart was fluttering a lot and I pictured the catheter touching my heart. I was trying not to freak out, and thought that maybe the fluttering was a bi-product of my nerves.

They took a chest x-ray and told me that a radiologist would look at it right away to see if the line was in place and send up a fax. I told the RT about my heart and she thought maybe the catheter was in too deep - this made me nervous. Once the radiologist's report came up, she told me that the line was right at the right atrium and that she was going to pull the line out a little bit. She undressed it and pulled it out 6cm and then redressed it. I felt instant relief in my chest. She cleaned up and walked me down to the clinic for my chemo.

At the clinic my nurse weighed me and took some blood. All of my labs came back great and so she called the pharmacy and gave them the o.k. for my chemo. Originally a nurse from the VNA (Visiting Nurse Association) was going to come to my house to hook up my Adriamycin, but when my nurse called to tell them it was a "go" for my chemo, they arranged to come to the clinic.

My in-house chemo only took an hour and 5 minutes since Dr. Howard dropped the Bleomycin. The VNA nurse got to the clinic early, which was nice. She explained how the pump worked and went over paperwork with me. She taught Bryan (who arrived as I started chemo) how to flush the ports; which he has to do every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. She gave me a bag filled with all kinds of supplies.

My pump is silent, and that was a huge relief since I'm a light sleeper. It sits in a bag that I can either wear around my waist like a cool hipsack (not) or like a purse. The infusion of the medication takes 72 hours so I have to be hooked up until Friday afternoon at 12:15.

As I sat in the clinic, the site of my PICC line started to bleed. My nurse told me that it happens sometimes and put an ice pack on it. She told me that if it started bleeding again to call the VNA. I keep checking it because I'm completely paranoid and sometimes it seems there is more blood absorbed in the pad than before and sometimes not. I have a mental marker that if the blood reaches a certain point on the pad I will call the VNA about it.

So now I'm just trying to take it easy even tho I'm going out of my mind with boredom. It's like telling someone not to look down - they have to look. Now that I'm semi-incapacitated I want to do everything. I'm sure in a few days I'll be back to my old chemo self, laying in bed, in pain, watching Bones season 1 and reading my book.

I keep telling myself "one down, two to go" but I'm not happy. I hate this line. I hate that it's on the inside of my arm. I hate that I either have to have a "sleeve" over the tubing to hold it to my arm, or let the two tubes dangle like tentacles. I hate that I have to carry a pump around for 3 days. I hate that my kids can't pile up on my lap to read a book or watch tv. And mostly I just hate that this is happening and I can't find any good in it right now. I can see how other people may find some good in it, but I can't find any - not for me, not for my kids. I'm sure God will reveal his plan to me in good time, but right now I keep finding myself praying that there is a plan for me - a long-term plan.

This will stay in for the duration of my treatment