"You're so lucky to have me today!" the CT tech said as she bustled in. She was SO sure she could get an IV in that I felt reassured too. I have to fast the night before and drink that awful tasting contrast and a LOT of water to hydrate my veins when I prepare for CT scans. Her face quickly changed from confidence to chagrin as she tried... twice... unsuccessfully to get an IV in. She brought in help, my friend Diane! My heart lifted because Diane never had a problem when I was getting infusions during chemotherapy.
Oh yay! No more painful digging around for a working vein! But... no. After two excruciating unsuccessful tries and not wanting to hurt me any more, Diane bailed too, leaving me with a bruised and throbbing arm. I didn't know what to think when they both left the room. I sat there, feeling so alone and uncertain as the minutes ticked by without anyone coming to tell me what was happening. My heart sank and tears came to my eyes just thinking about having to go through the prep again and come back another day. How long, oh Lord? How long will I be going through these things?
In the stillness and quiet I sensed someone nearby. A voice that I almost recognized, like a sweet 80 year old friend from the past, spoke in my right ear, "This is just the enduring part." A little stunned,
I couldn't stop the tears. I had been so worried about needing more surgeries or possible disasters that would traumatize me and with that phrase, I felt reassured that nothing horrible was going to happen but MOST importantly, that I wasn't alone.
Suddenly a brand new tech with warm brown eyes and a cheerful smile came around the corner. She filled a glove with hot water and put it on the back of my hand and calmly held it there for about 5 minutes without speaking. At one point she put her forehead down on our hands and I wondered, but didn't ask, "Are you praying too?"
Beginners luck!?!?! We can only guess why, but the needle went in smoothly and we were in business. I wouldn't have to go home and start over another day. Hallelujah!
I don't have to deal with CTs any more, just the constant guessing game of pain management as the tumors continue to grow... the "enduring part"... but I wanted to record this experience for anyone who wonders if they've been forgotten. You haven't. There are angels everywhere, those we can see and those we can't, but we are never alone. Why not believe?
