Tuesday Morning Drama

It all began in Glasgow, a few days ago. There I was lying on a bed getting my blood taken by a lovely nurse who got a vain first time. (This is a beautiful miracle which never happens). We were talking about how my ward in Glasgow was going to have wifi! Just as I was about to inquire about the speed and potential streaming bandwidth was, another nurse swings the door open and delivers what I would call some unsightly news. I was due a another bone marrow.

If I wasn't attached to a needle I would have thrown myself off the bed for dramatic effect and burst into flames on the floor. Instead my face twisted into an inhumane shape and the nurse stopped me before I caused a ruckus. She assured me it a routine procedure. A routine procedure that I absolutely SMASHED. I refused sedation because I had a Zara gift voucher to spend and sedation meant staying in hospital for an extra three hours. Not on my watch!

That evening I went for a LUX dinner with my friends in the Dome to celebrate my birthday before I go into hospital, (my birthdays on the 18th and I expect piles of sympathy parcels stacked against my door). To my utter surprise a cake appeared and they all sang happy birthday and I turned rather rouge.

Today well, today involved Tuesday morning drama. I had to get my Hickman line put in before going through to Glasgow on Thursday. What's a Hickman line I hear you scream? It's a tube that gets placed in the chest, the tip lies in a big vein near the heart. It is "tunnelled" through under the skin and comes out at your shoulder.

Now, I promise you I'm no sissy. Needles, knifes on the skin, pain doesn't bother this lady. For some reason the night before I was actually throwing up from stress about getting this line in?? Say sayonara to the pasta bake Rach! Not like me.

The procedure actually went pretty well, it took place in this Art Deco spaceship of an operation room. About 8 people in the room hussling about with rather menacing looking needles, almost like being in Willy Wonkas chocolate factory but he strictly hires medical professionals.

All of a sudden everyone's asking if I'm ok. Rachel are you ok are you ok. Do I not look ok? I must be making that face again. All of a sudden Taylor Swift - Blank Space starts blasting out of these speaker phones. My nurse tells me it's her favourite album and I wonder how my doctor can concentrate with this boisterous thunder rushing out of the speakers. What's happening??!

After the line was in, most of the people in the room scurried out the room. I was left with Taylor Swift and a very hunky man named Ben. (This story ends with fit Ben holding my hand, so not all things are bad in the world guys). Anyway, Ben asks me to sit up and the drama presents itself. What on Gods earth have these people done to me? I don't want you to think I'm being over dramatic here, however I told Ben that I felt like everytime I swallowed I felt like I was being stabbed in the heart. I began to yowl and sob. The doctors and nurses soon sauntered back in and stood around me waiting till I calmed. This is when lovely, hunky, sweet Ben took my paw (I held on loosely, not wanting to come across as keen). I was then wheeled out on a bed whilst I thanked Ben and Drs for there time and drama acceptance.