Okay, so a couple days turned into a full week – and what a week it was.
It took 1 1/2 hours to get the first IV in – and then when the antibiotic drip was started I was in agony. The IV nurse had found the smallest vein on the back of my hand. By Friday, I BEGGED the nurses to have the site switched. Two IV nurses later, they had a site on my forearm. It burned a little when the antibiotic was given, but it was bearable, until Sunday morning.
On Sunday I couldn’t believe the pain. And I mentioned it to my nurse because she was still in my room, who took one look at the IV site and said, Uh-oh and immediately shut off the drip. The vein had collapsed and the site was no longer useful. Two IV nurses later and both threw up their hands saying they couldn’t find a vein.
That started a whole whirlwind of activity, “what to do?”. Talk of a PICC line and ending with me having a complete meltdown. [Have I mentioned how much I HATE needles??] With me saying “no” until my surgeon could be consulted, which wasn’t until Monday, I was put on oral antibiotics. Everyone was convinced I’d have a PICC line and I was not so convinced. Fortunately, my surgeon was okay with oral antibiotics because of the results we had to-date with the intravenous.
Prior to the IV site blowing, I was getting antibiotics at 9 a.m., 3 p.m., 9 p.m. and 3 a.m.
But my all time favourite routine is the daily one: the nurse coming in at 6 a.m. to take my blood pressure and temperature. By 6:30 a.m. the lab tech showed up to get bloodwork. By 7:15 a.m. the new “day” nurse responsible for me came by to say hi and let me know she/he was my nurse. Around 7:40 a.m. the nurse was back to test my blood sugars. And then breakfast arrived at 7:50 a.m.
Apparently sleep deprivation is a hospital tactic to gain compliance from possible difficult patients. I didn’t know I was difficult.
Glad to be home.