Pilly and the Angiogram

Before you faint, it was a CT angiogram, so nobody ran a wire into my heart--go technology!  And before I poke fun at the entire proceeding, let me say that the ladies who finally got my IV in were amazing.

They were professional, courteous, kind, funny, helpful and are now my heroes, absolutely.  I don't know what they pay you, ladies, but it's not enough.  Ask for a raise and say Pilly said so.  I'll back you up.

So, anyway, on to the Pilly story.  Would I have any procedure without gaining a Pilly story from it?  No, I would not.  Get serious.

So, Jacob took me to the clinic, on account of I can't drive in LaCrosse and we all agree that me stranded in an intersection screaming and crying while trying to decide when it's safe to turn while many people behind me honk and scream obscenities is probably not a good idea.

And we got there with no trouble.  Jacob can even turn left into Kwik Trip.  I'm in awe.  Seriously.

I was a little set back at the clinic because I had counted on there being someone at the help desk to remind me where to go (I lost my instructions, no surprises there) but they were off exploring the medical museum or greeting people at the door and so I was on my own.

It's just a thought, but I don't need someone to greet me at the door.  It's not Wal-mart.  Just stick someone behind the help desk and make them stay there.  They can greet me while I'm desperately trying to figure out which way is the CT scan.

And I found the CT scan place, where some nice little girl gave me a box to hold and told me to go wait with a magazine.  I know what the box is for, but even so, when your startle reflex is so finely tuned a hand clap can send you into a seizure, how good is it to leave you with a vibrating box and a magazine?

Just as I expected, the box took me unaware and caused me to scream and throw it in the air.  At least there was no doubt in anyone's  mind who was next.  It led the nurse right to me.

So I went to the little room where they make you put on the backwards gown and the robe, which does nothing to cover you and after pointing out which one was the robe for the third time, on account of clearly they thought I might forget, they let me get undressed in there.

I forgot my purse on the way to my locker and had to go back for it, and then I couldn't open the door, get the key out, or hang everything neatly on hooks, but eventually I had the things stuffed in there, the door closed and the key around my wrist, so we went on.

We got to the place where they put in your IV and it turned out some grand Cardiologist was a little anal about only running the IV in your right arm.  We did try.  They numbed it each time, so it didn't hurt, really, which is good because I was only one among several older ladies and God knows what they would have thought if it had gotten any more complicated than it already was.

First, the obvious vein (you've probably had one or two  IVs in the crook of your elbow, so you know about that) no soap.

It turns out you have several other veins on the sides of your arm that will work in a pinch.  None of mine would, but still.  Don't give up hope.  They went and got the ultrasound machine to locate my elusive veins.  More numbing.  Still no luck.

Somebody went to talk to the grand Cardiologist, not mine, just the guy on call, and he said something like, screw the torpedos, full speed ahead, which apparently meant, keep digging.  We did.

More numbs it stuff.  They went and found a whole new person to try.  I liked the first one fine and didn't see why we should change, but the next one was nice, too.

Meanwhile many other old ladies came and went.  We had a lot of nice discussions about IVs and CT scans and life in general.  The new girl found a vein but it turned out to be an artery because it had a pulse.  I don't know if you know this, but you can't put an IV in an artery.  It was news to me.

More discussion with the grand Cardiologist who
1) still insisted on the right arm
2) wanted a number 18 cannula which was bigger than the vein, itself and
3) didn't care how long it took and assumed I didn't either.

I suggested we bring him down and poke five or six holes in his arm and then if he still thought it was a good idea, we could do me, again.  I was perfectly willing to use that ultra sound thing and have the girls teach me the fine art of IV running using him as a learning tool, but no, we weren't allowed to do that.

Eventually, the tube was in the side of my arm and we went off to the CT scan.  That was uneventful except for the part where they make you hold your arms above your head and hold your breath.  However, I have had the kind of Andiogram they do for real, where they run the wire into your heart, so believe me, I was not complaining.

It was a little embarrassing that I couldn't sit up afterward from a prone position, thus announcing to all that my abs are plainly on permanent vacation and refuse to do anything at all, but at least it was quick.

Getting the IV out was much simpler, and before you could say Bob's your uncle, I was on my way home.  And Jacob drove me home along the river and I saw an eagle.  Seeeing the eagle wasn't so great I would be willing to undergo that whole IV experience again for the privilege, but it was still pretty cool.

Today my arm is black and blue all the way around, I have more needle holes than an IV drug user and I even brusied where we tied the elastic around my arm, so I have my own, built in mourning band.  On the upside, it hurts to use that hand for anything, so I'm not waxing the floor til tomorrow.

I think I'll play with Emma, today.  She's way more fun than a medical procedure, I can tell you that.