After fourteen years and three clincal trials, my veins are as heavily trafficked as a junkie’s. And getting a needle in there is not for the faint of heart.
The first nurse who tried to take my blood in the ER simply gave up. No shit. “A new shift is coming on” she said. Several hours later nurse number two gave it a go and the aftermath is above.
Clearly all phlebotomists are not created equally. Thank the heavens I am not needle phobic or I might have given up the ghost long ago.
I share this little bit of ugliness simply to remind all that cancer is a multi-faceted disease. There is the injury but also the insult. The simple but not so simple little shit that we all put up with on a daily basis.
The collateral damage that comes from living with a chronic disease that requires both constant treatment and attendant monitoring. I mean, I can’t even fathom the amount of blood that has now been drawn from my body. Liters upon liters. Years upon years.
Just part of the price I pay to hang with y’all a little bit longer.