Breakfast

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My PICC

It bled a little yesterday for some reason.

PICC

Up to my room where I stand of chance of enough solitude to get the job done.

Clear the laundry off the battered cedar chest.  Roll out two paper towels in its place.

Wash hands.  Sanitize hands.  Pay close attention not to touch anything but the task in front of me.

Lay out the supplies.  

The first syringe has only saline - salt water.  White cap.

The second is bigger.  And colder.  Fresh from the fridge.  A red cap.  This is the one that'll keep me alive.

Number three is just like the first. 

Number 4 is smaller.  Yellow cap.  It'll keep the tubes from clogging between doses.

I peel the white cotton fishnet sleeve off my upper arm revealing  Tegaderm, like a 4x4 inch plastic window.  It keeps the site clean and, with luck, infection free.  I can peer right through it.  My pale white skin.   A thin purple tube, like a spaghetti noodle, traverses the window and disappears into my skin.  

Beyond that I can't see.  But I saw the last fluoroscope image when the physician was finished.  From the vein in my arm it goes across my chest.  It ends where every vein eventually leads.  The right side of the heart.    

You get perfect delivery that way.  From syringe to heart.  

Pulling off the sleeve the extension unwinds.  From the entrance in my upper, inner arm, the terminal end falls into my palm.  

No needles.  Don't need them with this tube in place.

Unclamp the line.

Clean #1.  Clean the tip of the terminal.  Kiss the end of each together.  Twist.  "IV push."  The salt water goes in, only takes  a few seconds.  A part of my mind sighs in relief.  The tube is still patent.  Didn't clot off.  

Number 2 doesn't need cleaned.  It was filled under sterile conditions by a pharmacist.  Or maybe a tech.  20cc.  Ceftriaxone.  Pale golden yellow.  Cold.  Clean the end of my extension.  Kiss.  Twist.  Push this one more slowly.  It'll take 10 or 15 minutes.  Fewer side effects that way.

As it crawls up the tube under the Tegaderm I feel the cold against my skin.  I feel the cold as it penetrates my skin.  After that, I feel nothing.  How warm is it by the time it drips out of the tip of the catheter and into my heart?

Clean #3.  Push as quickly as I like.  But I don't like any part of this.

Clean #4.  Push.  Just enough in the syringe to fill the line.  I pray it'll do its job.  Keep the line from clotting off until tomorrow.

Four empty syringes.  A couple dozen drying alcohol pads.  Throw it all away.  

Wind up the extension.  Tuck it into the mesh sleeve as I pull it back on.   

Its Spring.  But I'll be wearing long sleeves until this is over.  Nobody wants to see this.  

Only 22 days to go.