A Medical Adventure

The other day I went to the hospital. I had three things to take care of:

1. I had to have a CAT scan, chest and pelvis
2. I had to have a blood draw
3. I had to pick up a prescription

I got to the Radiology lab exactly one hour before my appointment, per their instructions. (For the life of me, I have no idea why they say the appointment is for 8:00 when they really want you there at 7:00). I changed into a couple of gowns (they let me keep my pants on!) and waited for them to decide to do me.

The first thing that they did was hook up an access to the port that I have installed in my chest. I actually have two ports, just above my right breast, and they allow them to pump things into me under pressure. They tell me that pumping contrast dye into the stuckee under pressure is the bee's knees for getting high resolution pictures.

While she was hooking me up, the technician asked me if I had an infusion scheduled for after the CAT scan. If I had an appointment, she could leave me "accessed", so they wouldn't have to do it again. I said that I didn't have an infusion, but I did have a blood draw. She said they could take the draw through the port. I told her that they didn't want to do that. She said that they just didn't want to "access" me (what a verb!), but if I was already "accessed", they would do it. I had her call over and confirm all this with the blood draw lab.

A small side note about ports, for those of you fortunate enough not to use them. Getting "access" is a pretty involved process, involving actually hooking a line to the port, flushing it with heparin, confirming that blood will actually come back through the port, and flushing with saline. All of this involves connecting and disconnecting syringes to the "main line", and then injecting fluid, or drawing fluid, through the port.

Anyway, they did the first CAT scans, and then hooked me up for the infusion of contrast dye. I was told to expect that it would "feel warm, like you feel when you pee yourself" (lovely!). At the end of the scan, they flushed the line and then hooked up a syringe filled with saline to the line. They left the syringe dangling from the line, where it swung and bumped like Winnie-the-Pooh going down the stairs (bump, bump, bump).

(I should also note that I had little or no discomfort in this whole process. This is a huge improvement over what I experienced previously. Suffice to say that the previous scan seemed to take an eternity, and that I was screaming in pain by the end).


I dressed myself carefully, mindful of pulling the line out of my port. I decided to run the line on top of my T-shirt, and to leave off my hoodie. I put my coat over the ensemble, so as to avoid frightening random passersby.

I then walked about 1/4 mile to the blood draw lab in the cancer center. (bump, bump, bump).

Now the blood draw folks are a rather madcap lot. For example, when I approached the desk to check in, they allowed as how the lab was closed. "No problem, I'll wait".

"Until Monday"

"I'll wait." I really love these guys, and I am more than happy to play along with the gag.

They took my ID card and parking ticket, and sent me into the lobby to wait. I walked over and took a seat (bump, bump, bump).

A few minutes later they called my name, and I went back and had a seat at the blood draw station. I opened my shirt and showed them my syringe, dangling from my main line. The phlebotomist was visably shaken. She went away for a consult.

Within a minute or so, I had about six people standing around me, shaking their heads. One of them allowed that "they've done this before". A battle-scarred LPN about my age took over, promising that she would "call over there" when she was done with the blood draw. A couple more flushes, blood draws, etc., and I was done. In the whole ordeal, the only thing that hurt at all was when they took a large piece of clear tape off my port. I waundered off to pick up my prescription.

I don't have any moral or great wisdom from all this. I just found the whole experience rather humorous.