Oh, No She Didn’t
After scoping out the inside area of my elbow she flipped my hand over. Immediately, I pulled my hand out of her hand. Resistant, I declared to her, “We aren’t using my hand for the IV.”
Of course, Parnell wasn’t my nurse, and the fight to make my short visit as painless as possible was escalating. Quickly, my nurse managed to find a spot on the inside of my elbow. Lucky for her, that meant we could be friends.
Come to find out, my IV bothered me the entire two hour visit. I don’t know if it was the tape holding it down, or the position of the IV, but it quickly became the worst part of the procedure.
It never fails the IV is the worst part.
I can clearly remember starting the IV for a Cesarean was worse than surgery itself. Three nurses attempting to start a line five times was worse than the actual spinal and surgery. There was even a time I had a nurse completely violate my wishes when she aggressively chose where she found a vein for her to access. Yep, it was right near my hand.
You’d think I’d become numb to the pokes, but it’s always eventful.
My counselor says it’s because it’s the first thing that happens during a scary event. The reality of needing an open biopsy, surgery to deliver a baby, or a line added for a transplant are all marked by the opening horror of that first poke: the IV.
In some odd way, I’m thankful for those hard experiences because they are etched in my memories. Between cancer side effects and growing children it’s hard for me to capture memories I don’t have proof of.
The small office I frequent for Interventional Radiology procedures is completely different from the cancer center I regularly visit. There is only one procedure room, so patients arrive once an hour. Unlike the cancer center, there are only a handful of employees, a parking lot versus a parking garage, and very few patients.
I was the first patient of the day. The next patient would arrive while I was undergoing my procedure. You may remember the time I fell apart getting a biopsy because the person next to me was getting her port removed. I was so happy I didn’t have to whisper the reason for my visit. I was pleasantly surprised I could share the joy of my port being removed without upsetting the patient in the bed next me.
Sure enough, after my procedure, I overheard the next patient state she was in to get a port. Immediately, I knew she was the priority I wrote about weeks ago. The nurse went on to explain how the port would work at tomorrow’s chemotherapy infusion. My heart broke for her.
I feel torn between two worlds: celebrating the excitement of the end of treatment and friends of mine still needing their ports.
That’s where I’m at today. I’m sad for those who aren’t able to get their port removed because they continue to need treatment. My heart breaks for the friend who’s port has become useless because the cancer overrides the treatment. And a part of me feels terrified to celebrate the end of a chapter I potentially may have to read again.
Cancer blows, but God is so good. His goodness is always right there in the middle of the junk.
Even though, I should have had a port flush, I didn’t have to because it was being removed. Grandma is helping with the kids. My husband went above and beyond to surprise me with a treat. My nurse and I connected over her obsession with all things grocery shopping and clean eating. No complications. Good sedation to not feel a thing. No nausea. A community of believers lifting me in prayer. My village. None of the other patients knew what I was in for. My friends going through their own cancer journey are encouraging me to find hope.
Best of all, I didn’t need stitches. Stitches are on the inside of my skin, but glue and Steri-Strips hold the outside of my skin together. This was a huge win, and not because it’s swimsuit season! Yes, the healing time will be faster. However, I have a little one who hates invasive procedures. We thought I’d have stitches again, and that stressed her out. She knew in the past that stitches meant her life would be turned upside down. I was so excited to share with her that God was blessing us by shutting the cancer book closed.
I know Satan is attempting to orchestrate doubt and cause chaos. That when I don’t believe the cancer book is closed it’s because I’m running on Satan’s lies that I am not healed.
Now, onto the hard work of believing I’m healed and free of the disease that broke me to pieces for almost three years. I believe God is making something really beautiful out of those pieces.
Has your life been turned upside down?
God is making something beautiful out of your pieces too. Somedays, you probably feel like your life is being ripped out of your hands. I hope today you can choose to allow God to continue his masterpiece in you. That the fearful, doubtful, and painful voice of Satan will not trump the goodness of God that surrounds you.
There's gold out there. Let's find it together!
