I'm writing from the lovely Infusion Suite of Kaiser Oakland Arms. It took 45 minutes and two nurses, but they finally found a good vein. Eric has hooked me up with internet access here -- bless him, always -- so I can surf the internet while Pamindronate flows into my veins.
In a while they'll send over a nurse from the Chemotherapy Suite (a room upgrade) who will give me three injections: one in my abdomen, and one in each hip.
It's a sad way to end a three week road-cruise-ferry trip.
Eric is always watching. He checks to see if they're giving me the proper meds, squinting his eyes to read the bags they hang on the Colleague CX Volumetric Infusion Pump. He watches while they attempt to find a vein by inserting needles into my arm and then just sort of wiggle waggling them around until they hit pay dirt.
He holds his breath, and he sighs. He mouths the words "I'm sorry", and "I love you". He looks away, and then his eyes are drawn back.
When the nurse asks me if I want water, He pulls a bottle out of his bag and says: I have water!
Eric would be a good nurse. Eric would also be a good pharmacist, architect, and train conductor. Eric would excel at anything he pursued, and how lucky I am that he decided to become my husband.
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1 comment:
45 minutes to find a vein? What happened to the lesbian in charge?
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