Have you ever felt like a pin cushion?  Yesterday I had to have minor surgery to get a port for my chemo. It was supposed to take 45 minutes or so.  Did I mention I hate having surgery?  For me the IV is one of the worst parts of the whole surgical experience because my veins are bad.  Therefore needles in general and IV needles more specifically, scare me to death.  They have since I was a kid, just ask my mom.  As I have ‘matured’ I have learned not to run from the building screaming like I did when I was younger.  I have mastered the art of looking like I am in total control.  I can talk and laugh through the drawing of blood, as long as I don’t look at the needle.  I can grit my teeth for the stick part and sometimes through the digging if it doesn’t take more than a few seconds.  When my veins blow, roll, or collapse I just laugh and say I am used to it.  I am a great actress. 

But IV needles are different.  They are big.  They hurt longer. I am more afraid of them.  It feels like five minutes each time they slide the needle under the skin.  They try to plunge it into the vein, only the vein moves away. This is easily fixed by moving the needle under the skin to try to catch the offending vein, kind of like hide and seek. Once caught and punctured, the blood goes everywhere but in the waiting tube…but only for a minute until the vein collapses.  Each time the needle goes in I get a hole…usually a pretty big hole because of all the maneuvering to catch the tiny, sneaky, wiggly snake in my arm. 

Once all the arm veins have been tried they move on to the hands.  These veins are even more difficult than the ones in the arm.  They are between knuckles which prove to be a tricky place to stick an IV needle.  At this point the needle goes down a size from a 20 to a 22 to try to make it easier.  It doesn’t. Maybe a 24?  Nope, still nothing.

You haven’t lived until you have been stuck in the wrist with an IV needle.  The logic is that if you can see my veins maybe it will be easier to puncture them.  They appear so much bigger than the previous little hairs in my hands, but to no avail. And maybe if they shoot some Novocain in there first it won’t hurt so badly. No one says that it actually causes the veins to draw up and get smaller.  A few bee stings of Novocain and my veins still won’t give in to the needles that are tormenting them over and over again. 

The needle size drops again to a 26.  I am told that this is what they use on babies.  By now my tears show clearly that I am one. With all the veins in my upper body exhausted my foot becomes the next target.  Did you know there isn’t much tissue between the bones in your feet so your veins are easier to see and don’t have much moving room?  Determined to find its mark, the needle takes a dive into my foot.  I am holding back a loud scream as tears make a puddle on Bill’s shirt.  He says it’s okay to scream…so I do, over and over again.  The needle is finally in. The anesthesiologist, the charge nurse, the 3 lab technicians and my surgery nurse cheer. The nurses at the nurses station in the hall breathe a sigh of relief that they won’t also be called into the room to add another hole to the ten I already have. There is celebration that the 1hour and 45 minute ordeal is over so that they can begin my 45 minute surgery which goes as smooth as silk. They say my fears of needles are irrational.  I disagree.