It's the little things....

May 28, 2010

Today would be day #3 that we, my mother and I, have had to make the journey into New Orleans.  The appointment this time would be to have my PICC line flushed and the bandaging changed.  We arrived early in order to register and found that our wait was fairly short.

After taking the elevator up to the 8th floor and getting slightly lost we came to the desk of  the oncology nurses.  I immediately knew that I was gonna like my visits with these ladies the most.  We were greeted with smiles and the most jovial of attitudes.  It put both my mother and I at ease.

Another thing that was making me so happy today was the fact that my father, sister and my sisters boyfriend had made the journey from Georgia's east coast to come and surprise me with a visit over the Memorial Day weekend.  All I cared about was getting through this appointment and getting home to spend time with my family.  It was the first time that my whole family (with the greatly missed exception of my oldest daughter who was off on a visit with her biological father for two weeks).

I was weighed in and then sent to a room where the nurse came and flushed each of the lines in my PICC.  She made sure there were no clogs and that she could get a good blood return for when they needed to draw labs.  This made me think of the horrendous experience I had during the first clinic appointment when I passed out when the technician said that I'd have to be stuck in order to give blood.  I must have shuddered a bit because the nurse, Theresa, immediately softened her touch and asked if she had hurt me.

I laughed and said,"nope...just wondering why the nurses across the street at the clinic can't use my PICC to draw my labs...cause I'm a fainter".  Theresa looked at me and said, "oh hun you better tell them girls to get a nurse that can pull from your PICC cause you don't need to get stuck".  I wanted to hug her or put her in my pocket.  Anyone that doesn't want to stick me with a needle or supports me not wanting to get stuck with a needle is definitely in my newly formed "people that I've met since being diagnosed with cancer circle of friends".

The rest of the appointment went smoothly and as we were set to leave Theresa made sure we took some information on my diagnosis and then pulled out a bag that contained hats that had been crocheted by volunteers.  She put the bag in front of me and looked up at my bald head and said, "you should pick one because your head might get cold".  I laughed a little because the temperature outside was making it's way into the 90's.  But I smiled and sorted through the bag finding one that seemed perfect.

I was struck by how overwhelmed I felt at this gesture.  I thanked them and told them I would see them next week and for once I actually found myself looking forward to an appointment that had to do with my illness.