I wanted to be unemotional and
completely practical about my weekly jab in the stomach but going to the
hospital for a velcade shot was like a weekly game of craps. I never knew how
my body was coping with my disease until I heard my blood test results. It was
also a crap shoot about how well the nurses performed. In January I changed my
velcade shot day from Friday to Thursday. That was so I could have Friday off
in case we wanted to go away for the weekend. I hadn’t considered that meant a
change of staff at the haematology day stay. The nurse who gave me the shot my
first Thursday, let’s call her Sally, had the bedside manner of an ape. The
first time I met her she said:
“You
look pale”.
What
a stupid thing to say. Of course I looked pale. I had cancer. I immediately
didn’t like her. When she stuck the needle in my abdomen it hurt like hell.
“It
usually doesn’t sting this much does it?” She looked at me with raised
eyebrows.
“No.”
(Not when the other nurses do it)
Dam I think I shot myself in the foot
changing days. A further encounter with Sally:
“Your
hemoglobin is only 91. We start transfusing at 90.” With a panicked voice, she
started madly photocopying blood donor cross-matching forms.
While she was gone, I asked Nurse Lynn
if I would have to get a blood transfusion. In a calm voice she said:
“We’ll
just wait and see how you’re feeling. If
you’re lethargic or not well, then let us know”.
I was fine. I didn’t get a transfusion.
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