My water marathon had paid off and I had a needle *shudder* in my hand, which was a million times better than last time in my ARM!! Ahhh! Gross! Quit making me talk about it!!!
After about 20 minutes my loving, if not overly nurturing, husband said he and the boys were gonna go ahead and take off for their fishing trip. I gave him the "You're going to leave me like this? With a NEEDLE in my VEIN?" look, but then decided to woman up and quit being a baby about it. "Okay, I'll be totally fine. Don't even worry about me. You guys have fun, now! Love you!"
Anyways, my mom was still there, so I should be able to survive.
The IV treatment takes about 2 hours. The room where the treatment is administered has, like, ten or so LaZBoy chairs against 3 walls where people chill with their IV bags. Some people talk, some sleep, some read, and some watch the big screen, which, so very UN-helpfully kept playing episodes of some violent, bloody, gory CSI-type show, not CSI, though, but the one with Lieutenant Dan from Forrest Gump. *Editors note: I have since learned that it was, indeed, CSI NY (in case you cared). Anyway, not helping with the gross-out factor. I have to be very distracted during the IV treatment or I start zeroing in on the fact that a NEEDLE has PUNCTURED my VEIN and is STILL IN THERE!!! And start getting all weird and freaky about it. So, Mom and I chatted for a while and laughed discreetly at the lady who could NOT not be talking every possible second of the day and would chat up anyone and everyone within the sound of her voice who happened to make eye contact with her. She was a kick.
After a while, though, I could tell mom was itchin' to get the heck out of there. You and me both, Mommy. You and me BOTH! So I said I was totally fine and I would just do my crossword puzzle and she really didn't need to stay just for me. So she said, "Oh, good! 'Cause I told Goldie I'd be at bowling by 4:30! Later, dude!" And she was gone. Okay, I exaggerated. She was slightly reluctant to leave me, but I assured her I had it under control, and she really loves bowling.
Well, I proudly made it through the ordeal, or had nearly made it through the ordeal anyway, when I suddenly got extremely nauseated and light-headed. I was either going to pass out or throw up. One or the other for sure. I was passionately hoping for pass out, because WAY less embarrassing, you know? But both scenarios were staring me down equally, so I tried to call the nurse over, but couldn't remember her name and I couldn't call her "nurse" because, how rude? And she was busy and walking in and out of the room, but never close enough for me to get her attention without using her name. So I asked a guy in a nearby LaZBoy, who wasn't hooked up to a NEEDLE *Shiver* if he knew her name. He didn't, but he went and got her for me after seeing the color of my face.
She came over and told me it was just the magnesium in the IV and I'll be just fine and she can take the needle out now and blah blah blah... I just wanted her to stop talking and get that thing out of my arm so I could get to the bathroom before I humiliated myself in front of everyone in one way or another. As soon as she disconnected me I walked as quickly and nonchalantly and in as straight a line as possible, while trying to make it out the door in a conscious state. Mercifully, I made it to the bathroom and managed to shut the door before I puked my guts out. My guts were bright purple. I wondered for a moment what the heck was in that IV before remembering the Jamba Juice my mom had brought me earlier. Phew!
Well, those of you who know me, what do you think would happen (to me) simultaneously during a bout of the cookie-tosses? Keep in mind that I have to practically wear a diaper just to play soccer. You guessed it. I peed. A. Lot. [Sorry, you know I've tried to avoid this subject on this blog, even though it plays a huge part in the embarrassing aspects of my life, but just -- just -- be quiet and keep reading! I wouldn't have brought it up if it wasn't the entire point of the rest of my day from Hades. But it is. So I HAD to. Sorry.]
So, I was hanging out in the bathroom, trying to figure out what to do and crying for the 5th time that day, when the nurse knocked on the door and said, "Kimmy, are you okay in there?" I opened the door, looked at her meaningfully and said, "I threw up."
"Oh," she said, compassionately, "That's okay. Don't worry about it. It happens a lot."
I fixed my gaze slightly more poignantly and said, "And I peed."
"Oh, yeah," she says, "You probably needed to after all that water, plus the IV."
"I peed while I was throwing up."
She cocked her head to the side like a puppy and squinched her eyes up, as if to say, "I'm not quite getting what you're trying to tell me."
"OH! Oh, it's fine! I can give you a towel to sit on on the way home."
It was SO NOT fine, though I'm sure it was perfectly fine for her, so she wasn't lying or anything. But not fine for me, not at all.
"I'm still supposed to get some shots. In my back." (Which involves lying face down on a table --with my giant pee spot smiling up at everyone!)
"It's fine! You'll be fine," she reassured me.
Fortunately, I had to wear a gown up top and it happened to be long enough to cover any massive dark areas on the back of my pants. And the nurse (man, I still don't know her name!) was kind enough to arrange the gown strategically, once I was on the table. But there was still the matter of (pardon me, but) the smell! This same doctor has had me on a bumload of vitamins for the past few weeks, plus the IV full of mostly vitamins, so, well, you can figure it out.
At that point the doctor came in. He had obviously been briefed on the fiasco I had just experienced, because he kept apologizing for my terrible day, etc. And then he told me there was another doctor there that was learning the procedure and would I mind if he came in and watched?
Oh, well, it smells like PEE in here, but...
COME ON IN!!!
Think it's over? Not yet. Part 3 coming up.