Should it be This Hard to Get One Tiny Tube of Blood??

[ I apologize for being AWOL for a few days.  I drove from Victoria to Ashcroft on Wednesday.  Although the trip was uneventful, I arrived exhausted.  I did start a post yesterday, but between cups of tea with friends and going to see my students (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! details later), I simply did not have the energy to finish it off. ] 

My chemo-week routine has become very predictable; oncologist visit Wednesday, blood work Thursday, chemo Friday.  I am thrilled to report that when I relayed my gory delightful details about nausea and vomiting to the oncologist, she prescribed an additional anti-nausea medication (I now have FOUR in my arsenal!).  I knew it was going to be good stuff when the pharmacist commented, "I see they've got you on the Cadillac version now!"  Yep -- only the best of the best for Yvonne :)

On "Blood Work Thursday", the nurse had a somewhat difficult time on this first-ever try getting blood return from my port.  At cycle #1 chemo, it had flushed like a dream, and, obviously, the drugs went where they were supposed to and accomplished their mission.  Well, at least I assumed all had gone as planned, otherwise I wouldn't be nauseated and bald, right??  We tried a few different "tricks of the trade" such as waving my arm in the air, deep breathing, and relaxation exercises.  (I will admit that, since this was the first ever blood-drawing from my port, I was just a wee bit tense!)  Eventually, she managed to get one tiny tube of blood.  THE BEST part of Blood Work Thursday was that the nurse taped over my port access and there was NO poke at chemo on Friday -- yay!!

Thank you, Lord, for Cadillacs!!  The new medication was amazing, and made a drastic difference in my "after chemo" experience.  Absolutely no visits to the big white bowl!  Minimal nausea -- still brought on by certain smells and the thought of certain foods.  But, WAY BETTER!!!

On "Blood Work Thursday" before cycle #3, the nurse flushed my port several times and then tried to get blood return -- NOTHING!  During the course of the next hour (yes, I did say hour), I was put through the ropes of every acrobatic pose known to mankind (by almost every nurse on the chemo ward).  "Wave your arms in the air; turn your head this way; no, that didn't work, turn it that way; cough really hard; umm ... ... ...; we're gonna put these blankets behind your back; OK try sticking your chest WAY out; lay on this bed, "starfish" your arms and legs; yes, pretend you're a starfish; stand on your head (no - this one is an exaggeration, but we did consider trying it!)".  Great intentions ... epic failure!!

My memory escapes me as to which acrobatic pose managed to produce a trickle of blood.  About 30 minutes later, one tiny tube of blood was full.  There! .... Done!

Later, while standing in line to pay for my next round of prescriptions, my cell phone rang in my pocket.  It was the lab ...  Can you guess what they had to say??  Since it took so long to fill the tube with blood, it started to coagulate and had to be thrown out.  Once the Neupogen was in the fridge at home, back to the Cancer Agency I went.

Nurse Kyla tried to get blood -- to no avail.  She called on "the resident expert", who was also unable to get any blood.  It was suggested they inject a "clot buster" into my port in case a clot was preventing blood return.  (I wanted to be all medical here and tried to google the drug name but, who knew there were hundreds of clot-busting drugs out there??)

After injecting the clot buster, I hung out in the waiting room for an hour for it to work its magic.  Let me just interject here to say THE VOLUNTEERS AT THE CANCER AGENCY ARE AMAZING!! There are always many ladies checking you in for appointments, showing you where to go, offering you tea, coffee, and Digestive cookies, or even just sitting to chat.  I love and appreciate every one of them!!  (I had several cups of coffee -- but no cookies -- while I waited.)

When I stuck my nose in at the nursing station one hour later, I was greeted with, "Here comes trouble!"  Apparently, I had earned quite the reputation and was the talk of the chemo ward that day.  Katie, the same nursing student that had taught Kate and I to do injections, had signed on to solve the "mystery case" of why I seemingly had no blood coursing through my veins.  "We're gonna get a gusher!" were her words as I sat down in the chair.  NO BLOOD!  We tried a bit of the coughing and arm waving again ... NO BLOOD!  Katie had one more trick up her sleeve, and she asked me to perch on the edge of the chair and lean forward while she tried positioning some rolled up blankets in the magic spot behind my back.  The instant I sat forward in the chair -- WE STRUCK OIL!!!  A GUSHER!!! Go figure??!!??

Later, Maureen would explain it as my port being "positional dependent", and told me I likely didn't need the clot buster at all.  Oh well, I'm good and cleaned out now, and will be ready to perch again on Thursday.