1 and a half doses down: 18 and a half to go.
2 doses down: 18 to go (one went rather unexpectedly quickly in there...)
Having barely slept a wink last night due to Canula-insertion induced stress, I then slept in somewhat. As it turned out it made little difference as I was only going to be able to fit in two doses today anyway (clinic doesn't open its doors at 6am, and I don't know the meaning of that time yet).
Burpy Mc Belch-Burp, the friendly taxi driver brought me from town to the hospital. I thought (and my friends will probably agree) that I burped badly, but I think this guy needed some sort of...Gaviscon or Rennies or something. He was nice though and I read his paper while *blehhh* he *blehhhhh* drove *bleh-blehhh*.
A very nice Northern lady doctor came down with the dubious honour of inserting my canula. I picked out the vein (from memory it was a good one, plus I could feel it which is a positive sign). The lady got it in first go, which is unsurprising as ladies tend to be better at doing them anyway.
I had my first dose which, following a bit of playing around with, took about an hour. I'm so unbelievably terrified of jinxing myself, so I refuse to gloat, boast, or worst of all, praise my baby vein on its great behaviour.
My transplant nurse then rang Baxter(s?) and they have arranged the pre-prepared pods which will be ready tomorrow. For anyone who doesn't understand medic-ee speaky, you need to find yourself a chronic illness. BUT until then, basically at the moment, the preparation of ivs involves using three syringes, with needles, sucking up stuff, spraying it into bottles, shaking bottles, using more syringes and then making the now prepared potion run through a piece of tubing.
Baxter(s?) will just do all that for me, yay! Baxters sure know how to please their lazy customers!
Plus after this evening's dramas trying to do everything (with my Mum trying not to help at my insistence, bless her) I welcome any help. My mum for years was my nurse, whereas now I'm the one who does everything. Except because of the location of the line I can't physically reach it so she still helps. (NOT complaining about very well behaved line) It took us an age to figure out how to do it all (pesky thing wouldn't work) to the point where we were both browned off. She then came into my room and purposely stood on lots of my stuff, humming and hawing. I didn't say anything because that was an invitation for 'maybe you should tidy your room' speech.
Yes I'm really twenty. Hard to believe isn't it. And before anyone asks, I can't afford to move out.
Anyway, nurse Momma is going to help me, and fingers and veins crossed this thing behaves itself. *cross, cross, cross*
PS: "Tish", how nice to hear from you. Are you still working for that secret place that insists you pretend you're an import fish company when anyone rings you? Or did you escape in the middle of the night under cloak and veil??
