There’s Something About Katie

The Monday before Christmas, I found myself on an early morning visit to the emergency room. Pain had jolted me from sleep and on my way to the hospital it was getting worse. When I arrived at the emerg, I was a shade of green that bordered on grey and totally facilitated immediate service for me.

One of the first things the doctor ordered was an IV for the dehydration and pain. If I hadn’t been in so much agony I probably would have kissed the physician who gave that order right away — and I probably would have slipped him some tongue because those fluids and drugs were amazing.

Though initially getting them into me wasn’t.

Let me back up: I’m not good with needles or blood-letting. Unfortunately I have had to do a lot of blood-letting and IVs in my lifetime so it’s been really shitastic. The only thing I have been able to do about my aversion to sharps — besides avoid getting into any situation that involves needles or IVs — is develop a coping mechanism.

Mine is the “Don’t look and pray that the blood sucker is really, really good or damn, damn lucky” technique. No visual, no fainting.

Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.

This time it… didn’t.

When the lady came to take my blood and insert the IV, she asked me how I was with needles. Reassuring her I was fine as long as I didn’t see a thing, she told me to look away as she prepped my arm. I held my left arm across my face so there was no seeing her work on my elbow.  She told me I had good veins (*blush* why I bet you tell that to all the patients) and after a pinch, she started to tell me what she was doing. She was a really nice lady and I could tell she was trying to make me comfortable. She laughed as she told me as soon as this stuff was in my veins I was going to feel all better.

She was the nicest dope dealer ever.

As the nicest dope dealer ever worked on my arm, she said to avoid sticking me multiple times she was going to take the blood work then insert the IV in that same stick spot. I just nodded while the voices in my head screamed about doughnuts and ice cream to shove out the images of what she was doing in my arm. In these situations the less I know, the better I feel.

Then she continued “I’m just going to put in this little tube in your vein to make everything easi… UM OH MY…”

I stopped breathing. And then she yelled out.

“WE’VE GOT A BLEEDER!”

Instantly I breathed. My god this woman was a joker, I loved her. How did she know I adore the movie There’s Something About Mary? I bet paramedic and emerg staff love that scene when Ted zipped his frank and beans into his pants and the paramedic yelled “We’ve got a bleeder! [NSFW or anyone who might faint at a bubbled and troubled flash beans and frank.]

Assuming she was done putting in the line, I turned to tell her thank you for making me laugh while in pain and dropped the arm I was using to block out the blood-letting.

And that’s when I saw it.

She was still working on my arm.

A super thin tube was kinda flopping around my elbow while underneath the tube blood oozed all over the place and was puddling on a pad under my body. The woman was trying to apply pressure and she had blood kinda splattered all over her.

Like in a horror movie.

If I hadn’t been lying on a stretcher already there would have been body making hard contact with floor instantly.

It only took her another second to get blood spray under control plus get the line into my arm and truth be told, it didn’t really hurt. Though that might have been because I was in mini-shock. Or mentally checked out.

Once everything was dripping out of the IV and not my arm, she leaned into me and said “Um sorry about that. I’ll call housekeeping.”

Oh Really? Gee thanks. I told her it was okay and lay back waiting for the drugs to do their job.

You know the only thing I am kinda pissed about is that “WE’VE GOT A BLEEDER!” has taken on a new association in my memory box. Does it make me a bad person that I’d rather imagine Ben Stiller’s mangled family jewels than my own blood redecorating a room?