Tribulation Tournament
Hannah has had a great day. She sat up twice by herself. I watched her pull herself into crawling position several times. She was even willing to try standing. She smiled and giggled as she moved her body she seemed relieved to have the walnut size mass taken from her body. She laughed at Gabriel and let him snuggle longer then usual.
My eyes can’t help but linger a minute or two on the bruising about her limbs. The IV struggle that dominated a great part of her trip to the hospital brings up a pretty funny moment. Yes, funny! So here is the background.
Hannah’s IV in her left wrist (wince) clogs up. So it is pulled out and the IV team is called. One of their best comes. She knows Hannah and her tiny moving veins. She plays with her arms and then decides to get a special light that helps finds veins. She gets it. No luck: it doesn’t make anything clearer. I mention successful places in the past. She decides to go for it and tries twice. The veins flash a spot of blood or the vein fatten up elsewhere. So the floor nurse who is also great tries. Nope. Hannah has been poked four times now and is upset.
Her floor nurse, who has known Hannah since she was very little, calls the doctor. He wants another person to try. So Transport comes in and tries once. I ask, "Can we go for a PICC line?"
We only need it for liquid, but I know that if her stomach doesn’t click in soon, we are going to need the line for nourishment. At this point, Hannah is on her third day of not digesting anything. Exhausted from the IV attempts, Hannah goes to sleep. I go to get lunch and run into the doctor on the elevator up and ask him point blank. He agrees. I mention he’ll have a message from the third person that has already tried to stick Hannah.
There is something else you need to know about this particular resident doctor: he is not my favorite. He says things to me that I usually internally (and sometimes externally) say "Yeah, right!." He comes across very arrogant and says things like after this particular surgery "Yeah, she will most likely be going home tomorrow." I don’t respect him.
So here is the scene:
Hannah has moved to the Pediatric Intensive Care Unit. The PICU doctor is there. All the people from the IV unit and Transport are there. They have an Ultrasound and are trying to find a vein. Hannah is given something to calm her down and take her out of pain. I talk to her and stroke her head as she goes down. Everyone is looking and not happy with the options. The resident walks in. He stays to the side while the PICU doctor discusses the case with him. The resident watches the discussion as I stand next to the PICU doctor. The IV team has given up on the PICC. She is too dehydrated.
I mention that all we really need is an IV. They decide they need to get an IV in and, with Hannah in this state of relaxation, it might be easier. And an IVwill rehydrate her.
So as they are deciding who will try this time, the resident that Robert and I called Dr. Blond Guy nonchalantly walks up and points to a vein on Hannah’s left leg. "I like this one." Everyone’s body language changes. I’m not the only one with problems with this gentleman but, he is young yet, and we are all hoping he can learn. They assist him and help him set up.
As he is about to put the needle in, I say, "If you succeed in this, you’ll have everyone in this room’s respect."
He paused and said "OK, no pressure right?"
I believe I held my breath and the PICU doctor cheered as he got the line to flare and it worked.
I told him "We are calling you from now on if we need an IV!"
He responded "I’m never doing Hannah again right now I’m at a 100% and Hannah 0"
IV people talk about pokes in scoring terms. (Weird facts from the Medical community)
Hannah’s IV lasted less then twenty four hours….. The PICC attempt the next day with the eventual Central Line was Hannah’s
--Mom
