Tag: high blood pressure

Missed Stick, Mistake

~ Linda Wright ~ 1 Comment
John, the only nurse at the outpatient hematology clinic who feels confident about starting an IV on me, approached me with a grin, “What arm to you want me to use today?”

I’m not an easy stick. He knows that, and I know that, and we both know what I’ll answer. “The arm where you can find a good vein,” I say.

“Okay, let’s try the left hand, that’s the easiest one.”

I extend my hand looking at the tiny row of scars like little beads running on the skin that covers the zigzag of the pale blue vein. This slender vein has been stuck a lot.

John’s facial muscle contorts and twist while he stretches the skin on my hand and examines it. He squints at the juncture of two veins. I can tell he is trying to determine if there is enough space for him to insert the catheter from the butterfly without bumping it against the wrist bone.

“Little stick,” he warns me. Then I hear, “Dang! There is no blood return.”

He pulls out the plastic tube from inside my skin, places a thick cause pad on the gusher, and I elevate the arm while putting pressure on the wound. “You know how much I hate missing. I thought I had it and then the vein pulled away.”

“Yeah, it happens a lot,” I say. Actually, it doesn’t happen nearly as often as it did before I learned how to use relaxation techniques. I realized that my thoughts had been preoccupied with other things that morning. My blood pressure was higher than usual when I checked in and the scale displayed a weight that was considerably larger than I wanted it to be. I had been knitting while I waited for the RiaSTAP to be mixed with sterile water in the hospital pharmacy. That usually makes me feel calm, however, when the bag of white foamy liquid arrived, I was attempting to pick up several dropped stitches.

John seemed a bit more agitated than usual too. Now after missing once, he muttered something about how he hates to fail. He set up the equipment to try again. Wisely he went for the right forearm this time. He knows enough not to put the tourniquet on an arm with a punctured hand. While he does the prep work I do mine. I begin practicing my deep breathing, letting go of judging myself for gaining weight and dropping stitches.

I managed to relax enough so that the vein did not pull away and the blood flow did not decrease in that arm. This time the stick was successful and I spent the next hour, reflecting on the consequences of being afraid to fail.

Don’t be afraid to fail. Don’t waste energy trying to cover up failure. Learn from your failures and go on to the next challenge. It’s OK to fail. If you’re not failing, you’re not growing.
—Anne Sullivan

A Belated Valentine to My Body

~ Linda Wright

Dear Body,

In our 63 years, I have often forgotten to thank you or to say how much I love you. I do love you and I have come to admire so many of your features. While others of my generation look in the mirror and frown at the wrinkles on their face, the imperfections in their skin tone, thinning hair, and flabby chins I laugh. These superficial things mean little to me.

I remember when you and I were young and I saw you for the first time in a mirror. You were quite a charmer then. I smiled to see
the blonde baby curls that transformed over the years to brown with golden strands and I smile today when I see that gold has turned to silver.

You have done many hard and complex tasks for me over the years. You have endured my anger and my frustration at the things you cannot do and repaid me with a gentleness. Perhaps the thing I admire the most about you is your ability to heal and to learn new and different ways of responding when you have been assaulted.

Without fibrinogen you have faced many challenges that most other bodies have not confronted. You have adapted to blood that will not clot and made me trust you when others told me you would be unfaithful. When the doctors judged you as being weak you proved them wrong. They said you would desert me in less than 10 years and when you did not they said you would leave before we had spent 20 years together. So now after 63 years, I love you even more. I am so grateful for the gifts you continue to give me.

I’m sorry that I ever doubted you. I am sorry that I have wasted so much of our time together worrying about you.

You have never lied to me even though I have often ignored your warnings. Yes, I have even come to value the pain and fatigue you give me. You tell me when to slow down, get some rest, and when to call for medical assistance. I apologize for the times I have not paid attention to your needs, the weight I have gained, the times I have delayed treating an injury, and my stubborn streak that has overruled you.

Last week when I sat in the doctor’s office filling out the five-page medical history, I checked off the list that is your resume: bleeding disorder, stroke, arthritis, seizure, high blood pressure, and cataracts. What great life experience you have had, I thought to myself. So, with confidence I check off the box that says “good,” beside overall health.

Then I smile.