I remember it being explained to me. They said that they were going to put a tube in under the skin that would allow easier access to my blood. It would make it much more convenient and they wouldn’t have to stick me every two seconds. Since I had only been in the hospital for a day or two and they were still “ruling leukemia out” I just didn’t get it. They came down for me with their stretcher and bundled me up, wheeled me around a bit and parked me in a hall somewhere. I remember laying there in the hall way and just crying. I didn’t know why or what I was crying about I was just crying. (course I didn’t look too pathetic by sobbing hysterically, but quietly and politely letting my eyes leak).. I knew that I had been thru a lot in the past 48 hours and figured it was a good time to cry.. even if I didn’t know why. As if it isn’t obvious, now that I see it should have been, I was scared. I realized that it was a perfectly acceptable way to show fear and I had every right to let myself be scared. It was ok. So I lay there in that hallway scared and crying when the doctor comes out and explains what he is about to do, since I only comprehended half of what he was saying and I’m guessing most of their patients are in the same boat, they made me sign some release that said that I knew what they were going to do and if they puncture my lungs I wont sue. Are you kidding? You want me to sign a release while I am strapped to this stretcher in a hallway? Uh.. ok sure.. you sure this is the best thing to do for me? Isn’t there any other way? Course, he couldn’t hear all that screaming in my head so he handed me a pen, I signed and he went away as I continued to lay there in the hallway crying.
They finally wheeled me into the operating room and made me climb up on that super skinny table (what is the point of that table being so skinny?) They wedged some plastic pieces under the mattress to keep my hands from falling off the table. Uh.. ok… Then they briefly showed me the huge monitors above me that they would use to guide the tube into place. Neat…. All the while prepping my body and getting me hooked up to all the right machines (gosh I hope they’re the right machines). And then, as if it were a gift from god, the drugs started. I was relaxed and content, still awake but content. They did what they needed to do and wa-la, I’ve got a hickman.
This hickman has been the best and the worst. I love the fact that I hardly ever need to have an iv poked in me. It also proves useful as a party trick, who doesn’t like seeing a gross tube coming out of someone’s chest? Course its totally killed my whole shower experience. I have to tape this stupid thing up so that it doesn’t get wet.. guess what… it gets wet. I also cant go swimming.. totally blows that I picked this year to pick up kayaking and my brand new kayak is pissed at me sitting in my basement. Running, hugging, cuddling and some sports are also affected by it but I am getting used to it. Bottom line is that my hickman is as useful as they told me it would be. I just can’t wait to get it out.