Drip...drip...drip...

Last night my home care nurse came by to start IV fluids. Garry was getting the kids in bed and the smells in the kitchen really bothered me, so we adjourned to my bedroom. Ninety minutes and four sticks later, we gave up. My veins were too small and flimsy and elusive. The nurse couldn't start an IV. She said I had the worst veins she had seen in years.

So I went to the ER. There were a few hiccups in the process, since the ER staff isn't accustomed to letting a patient leave with an IV in her arm. Finally the right approvals came, a nurse came to my room, and we tried again.

Miraculously, she inserted the IV on the first try. It's in a painful place--right by my left elbow--but it's functional for now. The doctor wouldn't let me leave without fluids, so I took two liters over 90 minutes, in addition to a dose of IV Zofran. I felt worse when I left than when I arrived, but it was still a "mission accomplished" situation. I got home at 12:45 a.m.

Then I called the home nursing service and someone walked me through getting hooked up to fluids at home. I spent the night half awake, making sure not to disturb the IV site.

This morning I had to change my Zofran pump syringe just as the kids were waking up. I dutifully checked my weight (as I must every day). I am two pounds heavier this morning than I was 12 hours ago. I guess those fluids are sticking! I still can't see the veins in my hands.

I'm feeling much better, too. It's likely that I'll do continuous fluids for at least three days so I can catch up. I pulled out of all of my church obligations yesterday. The Relief Society president is coming by this afternoon to determine how the women in the ward can serve our family. I probably can't drive for a while; I can barely get out of bed. This is an interesting season of life.