Shots rang out

Hey Posse:

I’m not really sure how to tell this story, but here goes one attempt. This is true.

Night had just fallen over Christiana Care in Newark Delaware when the nurse entered the room with what looked like an arm full of vials, needles, and test tubes. She knew the patient.  In fact she was one of the original nurses who was there when he started his cancer journey. No, no, no that’s terrible – Let’s start again. BTW in case you never noticed I don’t use names of people in my posts.

The nurse walked into the room with the litheness of a ballerina even though her arms were full of medical supplies. Litheness of a ballerina? What the heck is that? Okay I’ve almost got it. Hang in there.

There’s only one thing more reliable than a good nurse and that is a tide chart. Really? That’s the best I’ve got? Tide chart? People will think about laundry detergent. Okay maybe straight is the way to play this.

Bang!!!! The sound of the shot filled the room. Okay this works.

One of the first nurses I met when I started this cancer journey was _______ and she has been wonderful from day one. Last night she came in with and armful of vials, tubes, syringes, and medications. I was sitting up in my hospital bed getting yet another transfusion of blood.

Even though I had been through it all a million times, she explained what was going to happen, what drugs were which, and what time schedule everything would be administered.

“First I want to flush the lines of your Hickman,” she said.

A Hickman Catheter is a white latex, flexible, thin tube inserted through my chest in my Superior Vena Cava. The tube goes from the Vena Cava out my chest to teeny little splicer, which further divides the tube into three lumens, or ports if you will. It’s very like a garden hose attachment to which you can connect three other hoses.

“Fine with me,” I said.

Earlier in the day they (whoever they is) decided the Hickman had to be removed; it is the cause of my repeated blood infections. Regardless, it was still being used for antibiotics and other stuff pending its removal.

The nurse skillfully sterilized the tip of the first lumen, connected a syringe of saline solution and began to push the plunger down to push solution through the tubing and ensure the Hickman could disperse drugs, blood, and etc. One down – two to go. The nurse sterilized the second lumen, connected the saline syringe, and pushed the plunger.

Bang!!!! The sound of the shot filled the room. The Nurse’s face was white, my bed was wet, and my roommate’s visitor’s were stunned by the report of what could have been a small caliber handgun.

The nurse immediately grasped the seriousness of the situation.

“We blew the Hickman line,” she said grasping and pinching the tattered lumen while rolling it in her fingers to keep blood from escaping. “We need a clamp.”

“Look in the bottom of red gym bag on the windowsill,” I said.

“Pinch this here,” she said placing my fingers on the ragged, ruptured tubing and she leapt to the bag and began rifling through it.

“You don’t have one,” she said.

“Check the side pocket.”

“Got it,” she said.

She took the blue hemostats – a kind of scissors with a needle nose pliers ending – and clamped off the lumen stopping anything from leaking and me from losing blood.

“Wow.” I said. “That was crazy.”

“Yeah, I didn’t push that hard either; it just went. I never had that happen before.

Okay that worked. Just a note – the nurse in question deserves an award for coolness and taking control of the situation with am aplomb far beyond her apparent years.

I guess that’s it for today,

Bill