My veins are small and they tend to hide when approached by a needle.
Thus when they installed the port-a-cath in my chest I still ended up being stuck five time: twice to put in the antibiotics and three times to find a vein that would co-operate for the device
In the operating room, the surgeon took one look at my veins and called her boss, the big boss.
It took twice as long and three tries, but finally it worked.
My breast cancer team had warned me the surgeons weren't as warm and fuzzy as they were ( a reputation of surgeons that my Syrian doctor friend agrees in principle.)
I like to be original and creative but not with my veins.
I will admit I was scared more because of my veins and needles than anything else. They wanted me at the hospital at 7 am for a 12:45 procedure. Settled in bed with a good book and a loving husband by my side helped as much as it could be helped, but still my blood pressure shot up.
On the positive side it seems the operating staff wanted to practice their English. What we ended up, which is often the case in Geneva is Franglais, or something repeated twice, once in each language.
No matter the hard part now that it is over. I now will have the chemo inserted directly into the port-a-cath instead of trying to set records of the number of times it takes to get a vein. With ten sessions left to go, this is wonderful
No more human pin cushion. I'm turning in my tomato.
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