being piccy

I got a bed and graduated up to Edbaston ward, it's for women having breast surgery and it's much less frenetic. Women seem to come in, have a lump removed then dance out that evening.I had the usual 30 minutes of lovely, highly trained nurses trying to find veins in my arm, I am a great gritter of teeth and smile while they poke and grind away but as luck would have it after four abortive quite painful attempts one of the nurses owned up to being trained to put picc lines in, that is a peripherally inserted central catheter to you friends. Well it's wonderful, it stays in and sends stuff all round your body without fear of rupturing into your skin. Stewart will have to learn how to flush it out and I will have to wrap it in clingfilm when I have a bath but no more Tom and Jerry pink needles it can all go in bags on a drip. In passing this super duper specialist nurse told me my blood counts were getting quite low which explains the chemo collapses but I have insisted on early doses of the anti emetic beginning with O and so far no vomiting hooray