I have just been released from a 9-day stint in one of our local hospitals. It was not life-threatening, although I guess it could have been... but I was suffering from pancreatitis - which is caused by (for me) a rare genetic enzyme disorder called hyperlipoprotenemia type I. (http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/entrez/dispomim.cgi?id=238600)
It can be quite painful and the treatment is simply no food and morphine for pain.
The no food thing can be tricky.
So when you go in, you are immediately hooked up to an IV with glucose solution... I was in pain and offered the ER folks my left arm, which has been my "lucky" arm for blood-getting most of my adult life.
BUT
that meant I only had my right arm to offer the phlebotomists at the hospital.
Phlebotomist is a strange name, isn't it? According to the dictionary: A phlebotomist is an individual trained to draw blood, either for laboratory tests or for blood donations.
I am no stranger to needles. I was a research patient at Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore, MD for a big part of my childhood - Mom took me up there for months at a time; when I was school-age, that's where my summers were spent. Then when I turned 12, I was given over to NIH (National Instititues of Health) in Bethesda, MD. At John Hopkins, I was subjected to a lot of different testing procedures, liver biopsy is the only one I can tell you here - I have happily blocked out most of my life during those elementary years. What is consistent in my memory is the constant need they had for my blood.
I optimistically thought that as I became an adult, this would become easier for me. What happened is that I have almost developed a phobia about it.
Some of my college friends will recall that Spring Break of my freshman year was spent in the ER and hospital... a result of my going crazy, whether rebellion or disbelief that I was really sick (?) - who knows - but I took my freshman quarter to eat out and eat whatever I liked, even went to a few frat parties... all of these things were damaging to my pancreas and increased my triglycerides level to 3200. Thus, a major attack, and that is when I met my wonderful physician who has cared for me so diligently over these past 30 years. After I was released, I naturally vowed that I would stay closely on my diet and watch everything that I ate. Oh how quickly we forget. I was hospitalized 2 other times with pancreatitis, once during my 3rd pregnancy. And so this was my 4th time - it's been 18 years since the previous time. I have been lax though. It gets tiring to always eat differently and to have to explain it to other people.
But if you came to read this post just for BLOOD, then I need to get to that part:
The lab folks came to my room each morning about 6:00 a.m. to take my blood. They turn the bright lights on. They set their little toolbox down on my bed. They greet you happily, a little too eager to do their job if you ask me. Then they pull out their rubber string to tie off your circulation. And then they start to flick your arm with their finger. Hard. And then they study, and sigh, and then they move the rubber string down to my wrist. My hand is going numb. They flick more. And then they rub the hand with alcohol, it's cold. And they say, "Okay. It's gonna be a big stick." Ouch!! It is. And then say, "Has anyone ever told you that you have tough veins?" or perhaps they say, "That one blew. Have to do it again."
The Wednesday lady said that something was wrong with the vacuum on the tube, let her try a new one, and then that tube did not work, and finally she ended up SCOOPING the blood that was dripping out of the hole she made in my hand! I was so angry and upset!!
I mean, seriously! What is wrong with these people?
After enduring the lab folks on Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, I had enough! I rebelled. I told my night nurse on Wed. night that I did not want them coming in for me. She assured me that she would stop them. She did - but she left at 7a.m. - and at 8:30, 2 more lab people came in, turned on the bright light, I jumped to alert when he said, "Can we get your blood?" and I said, "No you cannot!". He said okay and they slammed the door on the way out.
Thursday was a bad morning. When the doctor on call came in, I was a basket-case and told him that I wanted to go home, the lab people did not know how to do their job, and I was tired of them practicing on me. He says, they do know how to do their job -- well, technically, if their job is getting blood - then yes - but really (!) - do they have to get their training on my poor weak little arms?
So - poor Hospitalist got a crazy patient who became non-compliant very quickly. I was written up in the chart, 'ornery' is what the gastroentologist said.
My last 3 days were no-lab days, except I stayed on the IV through Saturday, and kept that needle in my arm until Sunday.
Did I say how much I HATE needles?
