Needles

~ tidalscribe.com

Week Three after my first chemotherapy session included an appointment to oncology outpatients to see a nurse. I told her how fit I was feeling and she reassured me the fatigue would get worse each time  ( perhaps she said slightly worse )  and it was amazing how fitness levels dropped. She also said this was the week when hair thins… but she did order me mouth wash for next time; sore mouth and food tasting like mashed cardboard is probably the worst part. But like the fatigue it had suddenly got better and food tasted wonderful.

Sure enough, two days later my hair did start falling out; yay, no need to bother with the cold cap next time and I could get out my collection of colourful scarf/hat Chemo Chic wear, mostly ordered from Hannah Bandanna. It didn’t all fall out and I look rather like my grandmother, who even when I was young had very sparse wispy white hair. We just took this as being what a grandmother looked like, along with the large pink plastic whistling NHS hearing aid box that hung on her chest. Now I wonder if the hair loss was upsetting for her and was it the stress of bringing up three children while Granddad was away in World War Two ( away in Southport with the civil service, not on the front, he had already done that in WW1) or perhaps genetic, her sister was completely bald and hung her wig on the bed post overnight.

May not be accurate representation of Tidalscribe

UK Stylish Chemo Hats And Headwear For Cancer Patients. (annabandana.co.uk)https://www.annabandana.co.uk/

Sunday ‘chemo eve’ I went with my son to the beach hut and we had a swim in the sea. He probably got more than he bargained for; walking along the cliff top we met a couple I know, who hadn’t heard about the big BC. He has lung cancer so lots to chat about!  On the way home, walking along the promenade, we met more friends at their beach hut and she recalled her bowel cancer   treatment…  You’re never alone with cancer!

In the ward on Monday was the young lady from last time with a full head of hair and about to put on the cold cap, proof it can work. The lady opposite me was sitting quite happily with her bald head uncovered. They were trying to put in her canula, while she repeated she didn’t usually have any trouble. At the chemo group chat the sister had said they can always find a vein. I gather putting a canula in is a nerve wracking rite of passage for medical students and I would certainly not like to try putting a needle into and not straight through a thin or even invisible vein.

Smugly I assumed mine would go smoothly, but my nurse also had trouble. I have only one arm they can use – the arm of the lymph node removal is apparently out of bounds for everything including doing blood pressure. Inevitably the desperate tapping of veins etc has to be performed with the patient looking on, which can’t help, but third time lucky. Meanwhile it was about fourth person lucky, a nursing assistant, who managed to get into the vein of the lady opposite.

The ‘red poison’ is put in slowly by syringe; it is so strong they must keep a close eye to make sure it doesn’t go into surrounding tissue. The second drug just goes in by drip and was only supposed to take fifteen minutes, but no sooner had I messaged my lift that I wouldn’t be long than the alarm beeped. The drip had come to a halt; much tapping of the tube and fiddling with the box the tubes feed through between the bag and the arm. In the end the nurse removed the yards of plastic tube, dumped it all in the bin and started with a new length of tube; an idea I had been tempted to suggest myself. All was well until just two minutes left when it stopped again, luckily she was able to restart.

Soon I was ready with my bag of prescriptions to take home, the large bottle of mouth wash making it deceptively heavy. I followed the WAY OUT signs, but luckily paused at the entrance to rearrange my stuff and glancing in the prescription bag realised the seven day course of injections ( which stimulate white cell growth ) was missing. The centre is actually in temporary accommodation in a large ward while the regular place is being upgraded; I had great difficulty finding my way back through the maze of desks, little rooms and other bays till I found Bay Three. My needles were still in their fridge.

At home three days later I was waiting for the district nurse to come and do my first injection, they can call any time between 8am and 5pm, but I had this funny feeling the hospital may not have contacted them and phoned up before noon to make sure. No they did not have me down and did I have the prescription form? NO, I had not thought to look in the bag and check. They cannot do injections without the oncologist’s prescription form on which they have to stick a tiny label peeled with difficulty from the syringe and write the date. What number to ring? After searching through my bundles of information I had no idea, but actually phoning the main hospital number and working through the options is the easiest approach and I did end up in the right place. The nurse said notification should have ‘gone to the hub’ and then out to the district nurse. I was home alone and no I couldn’t send anyone to fetch the forgotten prescription. Fortunately she agreed to phone the district nurse and email them the form…  I wasn’t totally convinced and had almost given up hope when the nurse turned up at 4.55pm.

Now my aim was to learn to do injections myself, it looked quite easy. In the stomach is not as bad as it sounds, subcutaneous, under the skin, just a matter of taking a fold of fat skin. I’m sure there are many people out there used to doing injections on themselves for various conditions, but this was my first time. The next day I did it under supervision, no problems, yes I would manage fine by myself tomorrow.

The nurse said the cap on the needle point is very stiff so you have to grip tightly and pull hard. Next morning I did exactly that… the plunger came out and liquid sprayed into the air. I had broken it. I took out another syringe and made sure I gripped the right part, success. Perhaps I would keep quiet and not tell anyone about the broken one…

34 thoughts on “Needles”

  1. I have to be put out for any dental work, the aftermath of radiotherapy to the neck for thyroid cancer. The anaesthetist can never find a suitable vein in my hand, and uses the one in the crook of my elbow. I remember doing heparin injections for my husband for 6 weeks after he was immobile following surgery to repair his Achilles’ tendon. I got quite good at it!

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

  8. Hi Janet, I am glad that your treatment is going relatively smoothly. There seem to be so many people with cancer lately. Is it because we live longer or because everything in our lives is contaminated with plastic and chemicals. It’s hard to know. My sister is going for an MRI for BC next week. I pray its clear as she has a very young child.

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

  9. Thanks Robbie. It does feel like it and it is hard to know why. The effects of ‘modern’ life probably go back to the industrial revolution when people died from lung problems and all sorts of things before they had a chance to get cancer. Most of us have probably breathed in and ingested goodness know what during our lives. I hope all goes well for your sister.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  10. The odds of surviving cancer increase all the time, but it’s rare that the cure doesn’t make you feel worse. The poking and prodding, the collapsed veins from so many needles and sometimes just the waiting around. You’ve had your share of that so maybe you’re due a nice clear stretch now. You must admit to them you broke one of their darts and need a replacement as that might be the one that wins the game. Like all your friends I’m wishing for a great prognosis and an easier passage to the day they pronounce you cured, but in the meantime we’re happy to share the journey with you.
    Massive Hugs

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  11. I’m glad to hear you’re managing, Janet. I remember when my mom underwent chemo, and her hair began falling out. Curiously, when it came back in, she had much more wavy hair. How nice to have that time with your son.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  12. I recall the countless times of messing around with cannulas during my time as an EMT in London. We gave up after three tries, so as not to further distress the patient. My wife had to give herself daily sub-cut injections for six months, using a trial drug for her Diabetes. They eventually replaced it with a tablet, which she was happy about.
    Thanks for the update, Janet. Everyone is rooting for you of course.
    Best wishes, Pete.

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

    1. Six months was a long time, but I guess lots of diabetics have been doing it for years and have to take their gear with them out and about. a colleague at the airport told us there was a loud scream from the ladies’ toilets; the sort of toilets where the lights go on automatically, but off automatically and they went off when a diabetic lady was trying to do her injection and she was plunged into darkness!

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

  15. I found the tiredness was cumulative, Janet – not too bad the first time but it did become progressively worse. On the other hand my taste buds and appetite remained unchanged (hence adding a couple of extra stones in weight.
    I’m doing heperin injections myself. I’ve never pulled the plunger out but have managed to bed the needle so decided not to use that one.
    Wishing you well. Hugs.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

    1. Thanks Mary, glad to hear you kept your taste and who cares about a bit of extra weight! We just had roast dinner and wine, last supper before chemo tomorrow! I’ve done housework, gardening and blogs, so I’m ready to take it easy…

      Liked by 1 person

      Reply

    1. Thanks Joy. Update – I just had session Three this morning and the cannula went straight in. The only hiccup was something going on in hospital pharmacy and we all had to wait for our drugs. But the four of us were so busy chatting from our socially distanced chairs that time flew. Three ladies with more problems than me and great humour. I am part of a great club!

      Like

      Reply

  17. I had an IV drip when I was in hospital recently … they had trouble getting the damn thing in, then it wouldn’t work properly, apparently my blood clots faster than then anticipated. Eventually they shifted to my other hand … oh, the trials of our health. 🙂 … I wouldn’t tell anyone about the broken one, and if discovered, blame it on the fairies. 😀

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

Gravatar
WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. ( Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. ( Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. ( Log Out /  Change )

Cancel

Connecting to %s