Husband leaves for work and quickly returns with a box that the post man has left on our doorstep. I eye it suspiciously. I haven’t ordered anything from Adidas, not that I remember anyway. I open the box and find an awesome pair of sneakers with kiss marks on them. They are from one of my derby sisters. I love these girls. They really are amazing. The sneakers put a smile on my face and make me forget the looming biopsy for a bit. I am totally wearing them today.
A couple hours later and my mom picks me up to go to the hospital. It’s show time!
After registration I am given my bed in the special procedure department. I’ve been there before, when I got my chemo port put in. I don’t mean I’ve been in that department, but I’ve been in that actual hospital bed. I remember this because of the asymmetrical butterfly painted on the ceiling. They hand me my hospital gown and tell me to only leave on my panties and socks. So much for having this done with my new sneakers on! I’m so nervous that I go to the bathroom and begin to undress, forgetting to bring the gown with me. I have to yell for my mom to bring it to me.
After I am dressed in the hospital’s finest I am asked a million questions and they start an IV. I find this unnecessary and question them about it. They inform me that in case of emergency they can get me medication or blood or fluids quickly. Oh. Nervous plus one.
I get wheeled into the procedure room and they attach a blood pressure cuff to my arm. They will be taking my blood pressure every five minutes. There’s no clock in the room so I count the minutes by keeping track of how many times the cuff tightens on my arm.
The nurses ask me if I got blood work done earlier in the day. I answer no and inform them that I was not instructed to do so and if they have questions they can call CINJ. They put in a call for the radiologist, cytologist, and specimen collection guy (no idea what his proper name is) to come to the room. Twenty minutes have elapsed and my confidence in my team for the day is not looking good. I contemplate demanding a new team.
People start arriving in my room and suddenly this tiny room is crowded with seven of us. It has now been sixty minutes since I was wheeled in the room. Tears start to form in my eyes as my nerves start to get the best of me. The cytologist catches my tears and talks to me as they prep me for the procedure. She stays by my side the entire time with the exception of the two minutes she needs to do her job. Hospitals should really hire someone to hold patient’s hands when they go through shit like this, it really does help.
The doctor explains what he is going to do and though I won’t look I can picture it perfectly in my mind. I try to clear my head. I have a tendency to pass out if I see what they are doing. I googled “where is your liver” earlier in the day and so I know he will be very likely inserting the needle between my ribs. I imagine there isn’t much space between ribs so I really hope he was an expert at “Operation” as a child. He informs me that I cannot take any deep breaths during the entire procedure and I must breathe very shallow. So much for deep calming breaths. He numbs the area and then inserts the guide needle. About to take the first sample, the doctor tells me to hold my breath. I hold my breath and count the seconds as I hear the needle slide into the guide. Metal sliding against metal. Click, they grab the sample. Slide, they pull out the needle. Twenty seconds have elapsed. Breathe shallow. The doctor gives the piece of my tumor to the nurses who hand it over to the specimen collection guy.
We repeat the process. Please hold your breath. Slide. Click. Slide. Fifteen seconds this time. Breathe. I know we need to do this 6-8 times. After number five the doctor asks if all the samples have been good so far. He asks for confirmation that he has done five. I want to yell yes but I am scared to move or breathe or yell. I break out into a cold sweat and request my feet be uncovered. I expected to keep my fancy sneakers on and so I have on husband’s long big socks. The nurse takes them off but it takes forever, like a clown trick with a never-ending supply of rainbow scarves, they seem to go on and on. Finally my feet can breathe even if I can’t and the doctor goes in for sample number six. Hold your breath. Slide. Click. Slide. Breathe. He removes the guide needle and the nurse applies pressure to my wound for five minutes. It has now been one hour and twenty minutes but the procedure lasted only about ten minutes. They clean me up and tell me I will need to be in recovery for three to four hours to make sure I don’t have any internal bleeding. What?! They put a bandaid on me and wheel me back to my hospital room. Yes, a bandaid. A tiny little bandaid. They’ve just poked me with a huge needle, are concerned about internal bleeding, and need to watch me for hours and all they’ve give me is a bandaid. This just doesn’t make sense.
Once I’m back in my room my mom comes in and I request something to drink. It has now been ten hours since I’ve had food or water. The nurse tells me I need to wait half an hour and then she will give me a drink and some food. My mom and I eavesdrop on the people in the room across from us. There are four people in the tiny room and they won’t shut up. The husband tells off his wife’s doctor. I can’t see who the doctor is. I can’t stand it when patients or their family get pissy with the staff. They really do work so hard for us. Finally they leave and we can see that there is a tv in that room. We have now been at the hospital for five and a half hours and we just discover there is a tv in my room too. Oh well, we now know for next time, which will be in approximately four weeks.
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Thank you for a great description! I'll probably have one when herceptin stops working for me. Xoxox
ReplyDeleteI actually ended up having two liver biopsies and both were very different experiences - though neither were very pleasant. good luck!
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