2002 Story Set
| August 15, 2002 Thursday is chemo day, again. And my younger son, tired of it all, on Prednezone taper, does not want to get up. This requires that I scream and fuss and slam doors until, at last, the temper tantrum works. Of course, I am by now late and naked in the shower. He is dressed before me (showered I hope and dressed). We leave and I have, thank you, gas in the battered van which clearly needs a wash. And a service. We race for the hospital and fortunately meet no slow traffic, for once. I drop him off at the elevator and park. Today is a long day. At the Day Hospital, the nurse comes to access his port. We need to do this at once since, having fired Unilab for all practical purposes (screwed up bills, late results, etc.) we do blood work same-day-stat at the hospital. Now I have, for some 20 months, said every week that he has a dual chest port. That one side is clogged, which explains the slowly fading bruise on his chest. The one from the blood transfusion put in without proper checking. Which dates the port clog. Well, I am pie-eyed tired from all the typing at work and miss this time. The nurse has done it without my staring at my son's mutilated chest, with the incision marks, stretch marks and access scarring. She slides the needle in way too easily. She draws back ---- nothing. She tried a few times, wiggles it around, etc, all the usual things. No joy. "Am I in the wrong side?" I lean over and peer closely. "Yep." And note that she indeed is. In the wrong side. Meanwhile she is pushing and pulling the flush syringe and pulling out a thin coffee-colored stream of dried dead blood. At first a faint trail. "Might as well clear this gunk out." The last thing tried after Heperin did not work was something called TPA. Sort of a port flush drain cleaner. And when it didn't work, they said to leave it sit. Well, 20 months seems to have been the required sitting time. Because she got red blood! She gets a prize for that one. They rush to tell us that both ports will need to be Heperin flushed every 30 days, on an alternating schedule. Every 30 days? Evidently not too scared a cow, is it! My son will go shopping for her gift. After he recovers from the chemo. |
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