The day of the procedure I had L come and put the cannula in my arm before I was wheeled down to Oncology to have it done. Now, my Doctor L, and all the other doctors, were incredible at their jobs. But taking blood and putting in cannula's? Awful! L left me bruised all over when he had to take blood one day, and this cannula was a bloody nightmare to get in (more on that in a bit).
As I was wheeled in my bed, down the corridor and through doors after doors to get to where it was being done, I could see myself from other people's perspectives. Sympathy smiles as people looked at my face before quickly looking away. The only smiles I didn't get were in the Oncology ward. I can very vividly remember the face of a young woman with no hair, sitting patiently in the waiting room as I was wheeled by. We locked eyes. I suddenly felt extremely lucky that this was my situation.
I was hooked up to machines and for the second time I heard the sound of my own heart race. I began to count for the missing beat that I had, and was assured by yet another doctor that this was common. I was told to lay on my side, something that I could easily achieve by week seven and I proudly rolled over. I was told that they were going to inject me with some Midazolam which would most likely make me feel sleepy and woozy. So, they began injecting into my cannula, which normally doesn't hurt at all...but I could feel this pressure building and building and it really began to hurt. 'Oh no, it's tissued' - what now?! My lovely doctor had put the cannula into my skin, so when they began injecting me instead of the medicine going into my blood stream, it began to swell under the surface of my skin. Painfully they had to put pressure on my arm and take out the cannula and put another one in on my left arm instead.
It was a bad start, and I'd gone from being quite calm to extremely anxious. I was reassured and for the second time I was injected...ahhhhhhhh bliss. I must've slept through nearly the whole thing, apart from at the end. Basically, they make a tiny hole from your back to your pelvic bone, scape some bone off and suck it up (I'm not sure how medically accurate that it, but it sounds about right!) I think I woke up briefly in the sucking bit, sharp incredible pain making me once again aware of what was happening, but either they injected me with some more dazzle stuff or I passed out, who knows. When I came to at the end, I was very confused.
'Natasha, we're just putting a book under your back to put pressure on the wound and stop any bleeding'. I was still in twilight zone, and kept coming to and saying 'The book, the book! What about the book? Must I read a book?' I remember being aware that I was repeating myself, but I was so confused I kept thinking that this book was very important. When really, it was just a hard surface.
I was taken back to my room and given half an Endone, which I had pretty much come off by that stage. My parents came in to see me as I had the day off physio to recover, and although I ached all over it wasn't too bad really. I had built it up in my head to be much worse than it was, although to this day I can still feel a pressure if I stay in one position for too long, or lie on my right side.
The funniest thing was the day after, which was a Friday, and I remember lovely Sandra was helping me get dressed etc. And I was given a whole Endone tablet. I was high as a bloody kite! Giggling I got in my wheelchair and felt the best I'd felt in ages. How on earth had I been on those tablets at least one every four hours and still function? I was stoned off my face, and Sandra and I were cracking up as I made my way to the gym. Everyone had their concerned faces ready as they thought I'd be in a lot of pain that day...but instead I felt bloody great!
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