Saturday, February 6, 2010
Somewhere, packed away in a box, and drawn in a book, there is an image I sketched when I wore much younger clothes. It depicts a guy standing in front of a large stone face, and at the time I drew it, I was thinking about escaping the regard of people without compassion.
I’ve been thinking about that picture for the last couple of days since I had the bone marrow biopsy.
Okay, I admit, I made a rather large mistake. I committed the cardinal sin of being happy and excited when I went in for the test. Never mind that it was apparently a bad day at the office.
The phlebotimist was grouchy enough that I asked her point blank when I sat down if she was gonna take it out on me. Reasonable question, given that she had the needle in her hand to draw blood, and justified when I had to remove the wrap she put on to hold the cotton ball in place because the circulation was cut off. (She is always smooth with the stab though, and I rarely feel it.)
Her bad mood should have been a warning and I missed it in favor of trying to make her smile. Granted, we never seem to connect, but still, it’s always worth a try. Especially after I watched her be curt and abrupt with the old lady ahead of me.
Alas, she wasnt having any of my dull wit or dubious charm and I gave up, not *quite* slinking away, but almost.
A few minutes later, I was called in to the next stage, the “bare your butt and lay down” stage.
Christine, a sweetie, leads me into the little room and tells me to unbutton my pants and lay down on my stomach.
“What? Whoa. Hold the phone. I have to be on my stomach?”
“Well, yeah. Is that a problem?” (Ah, the innocence of youthful flexibility.)
“Jeez, yeah. My back is trashed. I can’t lay on my stomach. Especially not arched like that. Can we lose the pillow at least?”
We could, and did, and ended up putting it under my stomach. I was thinking I’d be on my side, like a spinal tap. Dopey me, it never occurred to me to see if YouTube had any vids of a bone marrow biopsy so I could know what to expect..
I spent a couple of minutes trying to figure out how I was was going to aim my phone at my butt while flat on my face, and I finally asked another assistant if she could shoot video.
“No. I have to do my job.” The negation was delivered in a way which I perceived as a suggestion that I was an idiot for wanting to shoot video in the first place, and that I was twice an idiot for daring to suggest she stoop that low.
“Okay. I was just asking.”
“I have to move fast and get the samples prepped before it coagulates.”
Ah. Okay. Makes sense. “Well, okay. Can you at least look at the screen and tell me if I have it aimed in the right direction?”
“No! You can’t move during the procedure.” I swear, the woman sounded horrified. “And you cant lay like that anyway. You have to be flat.”
Christine was off hunting for the practitioner who’ll do the work, and she returns with Jeff.
“Hi. My name is Jeff, and I’ll be taking your sample today.”
“I know you. You do chemo but you’ve never had me.”
“No, I never have, but I remember you though.”
Heh. I’m sure he does. I dont exactly float meek and mild through that place, after all.
Jeff sets about covering my butt with assorted paper and drapes and such, and I look over my shoulder. I spot a dark haired woman out of the corner of my eye, and I wonder who in the hell is so rude as to stand there staring at my butt and not have the *courtesy* to introduce herself. That happens to be a pet peeve of mine, by the way.
So, already I’m losing my happy mood in the face of all the ‘Nos’ I’d gotten (Justified or otherwise, it was the delivery that pissed me off) so I held the phone out to the dark haired woman.
“Maybe she’ll shoot the video for me?”
“I am not going to videotape you.” The statement was delivered in no uncertain terms.
Okay... So much for any vestige of happy. It just collapsed in the swell of rising anger.
I set the phone to record audio (Yes you cranky old bat, I have you on audio) and set it face down on the table beside me. Jeff is busy poking and prodding, presumably looking for the edges of the bone he is about to stab. He’s chattering away, telling me what he’s gonna be doing, etc. I said something about wanting the needle. In my head, I’m wanting to see what it looks like, because I dont have ANY patience with nurses and doctors who try to hide their tools from me. I am not a four year old child, and I dont give a good god damn about what they are used to dealing with.
I have yet to play the recording back to see what I said exactly, but the response I got back, from the first cranky old bat, was “You cant have it.”
“Why not?”
“It’s a biohazard. It’s against the law.”
“No no, not THE needle, A needle. I just want to see what it looks like. Gods!”
“Well, we can show you that.”
“Thank you!”
Somewhere at this point, Jeff asks how I’m doing and I reply with my usual candor. “I’m pissed and getting madder by the second.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Never mind!” Which I realize is not a response that will help the situation, so I clarify. “I’m getting fucking tired of being told no for everything I ask about, that’s why.” Rational or not (and I suspect the latter) there are a multitude of ways to say no; some more tolerable than others.
Mind you, half of this battle is based on my ignorance. I should have researched how the procedure was performed, what tools they would use, etc. and I didn’t. Of course, it could be argued that I SHOULDN’T have to research ahead of time, that they’d explain and show me, but I understand that most people would balk at the size of the tool, or the idea itself if they gave out too many specifics.
I sure as hell dont LIKE it, but I get it. The juggernaut simply has no concept of someone like me who isnt afraid, and ironically enough, once I got pissed and started swearing, THEY were on familiar territory and they (Jeff not included here) became more responsive. Jeff was responsive from the start.
Jeff did his thing, and I suspect I startled him somewhat by the questions I asked. Or maybe not. I truly did want to know if he was using lidocaine or marcaine. After that whole dentist bit and my reaction to marcaine, it was a valid question.
I must admit, I sort of had the idea that he was being coached by that dark haired woman, who must have been the “Dianne” who put her back out and left early two days ago. Doesnt matter to me if he’s new. Everybody learns sometime. But he carried himself confidently, telling me when he was poking through the bone to numb the inner lining, when he was drilling, etc. The only real sketch came when he said “You’re going to feel a zing when I draw out the liquid.”
Yikes! As soon as he pulled on the plunger (and remember, I am still visualizing the whole apparatus as a large bore needle hanging out of a large bore syringe since none of them would show it to me) I felt a jolt shoot down my butt toward my leg. I jumped and dang near tore off part of the cowling covering the articulated part of the bed. The part I had my fingers curled under dealing with the way my back was already screaming from being on my stomach.
“What the hell was that?” I asked, and realized I already knew the answer. Obviously there is a change in volumetric pressure if they are taking material out of a closed system. Something has to give somewhere.
“That’s from the change in pressure, right?”
“Yes, exactly,” Jeff says. “Get ready. I’ve got to get a little bit more.”
Cranky Bat number one says something about taking deep breaths but I ignore her. I know far better how to handle my own pain than she ever will.
“Okay,” I say to Jeff, and start laughing. Some people do that, according to a chiropractor I had once. They laugh in anticipation of getting their neck cracked, and I’m one of those. So I’m trying to hold still, laughing myself silly, and Bam! Another jolt, though nowhere near as intense because its no longer a surprise.
The rest of the procedure is uneventful, with Jeff telling me he has to go for the spongy part next, and I’m still chuckling off and on while he grinds and digs. Doesn’t exactly hurt, but I was fascinated by how I could feel the vibrations along my spine. Yes, that stuff really does fascinate me. Call me odd.
They discuss whether or not they got enough to do whatever. I heard something about a slide, so I figured that meant like those old glass microscope slides or whatever the contemporary version was, and at the end, as Bat one and Bat two scurry off with pieces of me, the dark haired one calls out “You can show him that part.”
“Oh, I have been granted a boon! Thank you!” and childish as it was, MY delivery left no doubt of the level of sarcasm.
Patient, considerate Jeff had me turn over after he taped me shut “To put pressure on the bandage.” and I struggled to get turned around. My back was aching and wouldn’t cooperate, but when I finally did get flipped over, Jeff started showing me his tools.
“Wait, wait. Start over.” as I scramble to kick the phone out of audio record mode and shift to video. Bless his heart if he didnt start over, showed me how the auger thing works, and what all he did. Finally getting what I wanted from the start, I chill, and I have no doubt HE breathed a sigh of relief too.
The rest is just noise, but the point of all this remains. The medical system is a juggernaut, feeding itself by feeding on the people it’s supposed to be helping. As I patient, I am required to act a certain way. to be frightened and in need of comfort, or angry and belligerent, or at the very least, cowed and unresponsive. I am not allowed to be curious, inquisitive, and worst of all, cheerful. So very few of the people in that profession can change gears and deal with me. That’s been proven over and over, ad nauseum.
And while I may not be able to stop the juggernaut and make it acknowledge the fact that I am a real live person, I will, to the best of my ability, be a very large bump in the road so when the damn system runs me over, somebody will notice the jolt.