I’m waiting for the home health nurse to come and install my IV port this afternoon. I’m nervous.
Giving myself a shot every day doesn’t make me immune to IV jitters. I keep thinking I should be completely calm about this, but I’m not; I’m a bundle of anxiety, hoping I don’t vomit on the nurse as she works. She doesn’t sound like last year’s Warren, who jovial and booming; she sounds a little more jittery, and I know this isn’t just me projecting as Sam could hear her through my phone. Agh.
I wish I had bigger veins. I want veins as big as a turnpike. Bigger than a turnpike. What’s bigger than a turnpike? Is a freeway bigger than a turnpike? I want veins as big as a freeway, but only if a freeway is the thing that’s bigger than a turnpike. Oh god, I’m a nervous wreck. Someone just come over and stick me already, please.
I wish there were vein exercises I could do. Where are the Womens Fitness articles for my problem area, then? 10 Great Moves For Shapley Veins! I’d buy that issue. Instead, I just hydrate. That feels a bit ineffective. Ooooh, look at me. I’m drinking water. This is really doing something.
IVs aren’t really that bad. Wearing an IV is no big deal at all, outside of making me feel sicker than I am- there’s something so very hospital- ish about them. The stick itself is always a bit brutal for me, because it always seems to take me a minimum of four tries, and I have a thing about it. Shots, I’m good. Blood draws, no problem. IVs? I’m all a-quiver and wobbly inside. What the hell? A year in a war zone, house spider killer, resident dealer- with- of- all- bodily- fluids– I’m great with all of that, but come at me with an IV needle and I go all to pieces. Way to stay rational, Sarah.
I’m so eager to get started, though. I move through the house at an almost diagonal sometimes, forgetting my left half can’t keep up with my right. It’s still so early in this flare, so I don’t have many of the indicators that would usually remind me that my body isn’t fully mine. I’ll get up from a chair and think my body works the way it used to three weeks ago, and I’ll be surprised when it doesn’t. I want to get moving on infusion therapy and get my left side back, if it’s coming back.
And that’s part of all of this: the mystery of it all. MS is like a series of really crap presents; imagine the bitchiest Magic Eight Ball, waiting for you at the end of ever flare. Every time you have a flare, you get the chance to shake the ball. Do you get the use of your leg back? Reply hazy, try again! Do you get your sight back? Outlook good! Does the pain in your hands and feet ever stop? Signs point to yes! Will those crushing headaches ever end? Concentrate and ask again! You never know, after a flare, if what has happened will stick with you forever, or if it will leave.
I’m already over the waiting. Once my infusion therapy is over, I’ll have my answer, and I’m ready. This isn’t so bad, but I’d like to know if it’s my new reality.
All right, it’s noon, and I have an update on the website due any moment- and a home care nurse due in any second as well. I should get back to the real world, and fretting over it. Wish me luck, all. Take care of yourselves, and each other. Don’t worry over me- I have Sam filling me up with Nepali food (I mean, how lucky am I, seriously?) and this little lady watching over me.