Welcome to the 40s, 50s,and 60s for us. We married in '62, then we went "overseas" to Izmir, Turkey, in December '63. By the time we came back stateside in '66, air conditioning was on the rise. We've had it ever since then, so traveling in the hot car Friday was quite a trip. Providing for the wheel chair complicates things.
Complications continued as we arrived at the Outpatient Center - they did not have me listed! Cute! Real cute! After a while they called me back. Jim went back there, returning with a lady with a bunch of arm bands for me. Since I have the port, I do not go to the lab for that, but blood is drawn once I'm in my room. I asked that my urine be collected there, also. Much easier that way when I am changing clothes from mine of Wal-Mart, to theirs of Jones of New York. That way, you can have all kinds of experiences, and no one knows about it unless you say anything, anything like fall on the top of your head. I have very, very little balance, and *going* is very precarious in the first place in those little bathrooms, but add the act of collecting a specimen, and the chances of falling rise. I have no idea how much the numbers are, but I can tell you it is NOT a good feeling looking at the floor as you are bent over, going down towards it at the time. Thank goodness for my chair having to be right next to the seat, it kept me from really hurting myself, because it caught my head. I conscousciously let myself relax as I went down, keeping myself from having my neck stiff (ummm, wonder if that is why my neck has been so stiff; haven't thought of that being the reason). My right arm scrapped the safety bar - hey, those are only so good if you go slowly enough to hold on to them! - with just a small scrape. I thought I came out pretty good.
Enter one fashion setter headed for her stage after the head is raised to make it comfortable for her to lie down on it. Awwww... done! Feels so good. The back says, "Thank you." Then we begin the next part. Access the port. No problem. Unless it is you, and this is your port. Stubborn ole goose! I don't think Guin - I do not know how to spell her name, but she was just about the sweetest thing - believed me whenever I warned her about accessing my port. She found out! Did she ever find out! I could go on and on and on, and you probably would never believe either of us, but she did not make it. Sad. For me. We ended up getting Paula. Not even able to infuse. True. Two sticks already, plus they were waiting in lithotripsy, and she went for a vein. Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh! Last time a needle came close to my veins it had been within six needle sticks of attempting to puncture it, and then hoping it would hold. At least if she got it, it only had to hold for about an hour.
C'mon gang let's go............................. prayers from everyone. Blood squirts! We got the lab quota, now can we cap it for IV and it hold until the lithotripsy is done? We're off to find out! I was exhausted from the tension, but we were on our way. Now, could we blast the stones in that right kidney out of there? Oh, I just remembered. I don't think I've ever remembered that my back surgery would be scheduled once the stones were taken care of. Let's go get 'em!
They greet me out at the van. Likewise. "Hi, y'all." The three of us do a good job of getting me up on the table with the right kidney just over the opening where all the sound waves will come from to blast the rocks inside of me. By the time we have me all settled in place, I have been shaken up quite a bit, and hurting a lot. The nurse said she would take care of my pain as much as she safely could.
Once all done, they had given me the maximum allowed - 4,000 blasts to the stones! I believe it, too. The last couple groups of blasts brought on the tears, too. It was all worth it, though, because Saturday is a day of SUCCESS! Whooppie!! Sand in the strainer! On with the show! Next stop Jonesboro, St. Bernard's Hospital, Annex Room 204. Monday morning, access port, begin IVIG.
TOODLES
Striving for a world without Myasthenia Gravis
Complications continued as we arrived at the Outpatient Center - they did not have me listed! Cute! Real cute! After a while they called me back. Jim went back there, returning with a lady with a bunch of arm bands for me. Since I have the port, I do not go to the lab for that, but blood is drawn once I'm in my room. I asked that my urine be collected there, also. Much easier that way when I am changing clothes from mine of Wal-Mart, to theirs of Jones of New York. That way, you can have all kinds of experiences, and no one knows about it unless you say anything, anything like fall on the top of your head. I have very, very little balance, and *going* is very precarious in the first place in those little bathrooms, but add the act of collecting a specimen, and the chances of falling rise. I have no idea how much the numbers are, but I can tell you it is NOT a good feeling looking at the floor as you are bent over, going down towards it at the time. Thank goodness for my chair having to be right next to the seat, it kept me from really hurting myself, because it caught my head. I conscousciously let myself relax as I went down, keeping myself from having my neck stiff (ummm, wonder if that is why my neck has been so stiff; haven't thought of that being the reason). My right arm scrapped the safety bar - hey, those are only so good if you go slowly enough to hold on to them! - with just a small scrape. I thought I came out pretty good.
Enter one fashion setter headed for her stage after the head is raised to make it comfortable for her to lie down on it. Awwww... done! Feels so good. The back says, "Thank you." Then we begin the next part. Access the port. No problem. Unless it is you, and this is your port. Stubborn ole goose! I don't think Guin - I do not know how to spell her name, but she was just about the sweetest thing - believed me whenever I warned her about accessing my port. She found out! Did she ever find out! I could go on and on and on, and you probably would never believe either of us, but she did not make it. Sad. For me. We ended up getting Paula. Not even able to infuse. True. Two sticks already, plus they were waiting in lithotripsy, and she went for a vein. Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh! Last time a needle came close to my veins it had been within six needle sticks of attempting to puncture it, and then hoping it would hold. At least if she got it, it only had to hold for about an hour.
C'mon gang let's go............................. prayers from everyone. Blood squirts! We got the lab quota, now can we cap it for IV and it hold until the lithotripsy is done? We're off to find out! I was exhausted from the tension, but we were on our way. Now, could we blast the stones in that right kidney out of there? Oh, I just remembered. I don't think I've ever remembered that my back surgery would be scheduled once the stones were taken care of. Let's go get 'em!
They greet me out at the van. Likewise. "Hi, y'all." The three of us do a good job of getting me up on the table with the right kidney just over the opening where all the sound waves will come from to blast the rocks inside of me. By the time we have me all settled in place, I have been shaken up quite a bit, and hurting a lot. The nurse said she would take care of my pain as much as she safely could.
Once all done, they had given me the maximum allowed - 4,000 blasts to the stones! I believe it, too. The last couple groups of blasts brought on the tears, too. It was all worth it, though, because Saturday is a day of SUCCESS! Whooppie!! Sand in the strainer! On with the show! Next stop Jonesboro, St. Bernard's Hospital, Annex Room 204. Monday morning, access port, begin IVIG.
TOODLES
Striving for a world without Myasthenia Gravis
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