Irn Bru All The Way
Yesterday afternoon I had a scheduled visit to one of our local CLSC (general medical clinics) for out patient treatment. My red blood cell count is down and, with a big op coming up, they wanted to boost my iron levels to stimulate making red blood cells (a process that takes upwards of 10 days after an infusion).
I should point out I had to go to the pharmacist and buy my own iron infusion, that came in three small bottles. Why three? I don’t know. These little bottles cost over $100+ Canadian so I was glad they came in a little box wrapped in cotton wool. I didn’t want to have to buy another set before I had even had the first administered.
My appointment at the CLSC was 1 pm but, like always, I was early. Dragging along the OH who had to take the afternoon off to supervise me. I had to go home with someone else to keep an eye on me due to any possible after effects, like dizziness, shortness of breath or turning blue [see: shortness of breath.] Thankfully, I had none of that.
This wasn’t my first iron infusion, I’ve had three others while in hospital in Montreal so I at least knew what to expect. 2 hours of sheer boredom sitting in an uncomfortable chair. Well, it wasn’t so boring this time around. And the chair turned out to be a fancy push up lazy-boy kind of chair you could almost sleep in. They also offered juice boxes and granola bars mid way through. I’m guessing they get a lot of diabetics getting iron regularly.
The worst part of the whole process wasn’t the actual infusion, that went as expected. It was the “Hunt the vein” palaver by the nurse who kept apologising, profusely, as vein after vein refused to play ball. That is, when she could find a vein to begin with. I had already explained to her, as I have to do every time I go through anything involving needles, that there are only two places where anyone manages to find a vein that works. And, lo and behold, it was on her third try, in one of the veins I suggested that she made a connection.
Ah, such is life. At least I got a good dose of Irn Bru. Come this weekend, I’m going to be swinging off the trees and dancing like it’s 1999!