Communication...

Thursday was not a good day for the good guys. I went to the hospital, where they decided that the line in my arm was probably infected, so I needed IV antibiotics. They took blood from the line, and added a cannula in the other arm to put drugs into... The pains kept on coming, and there was no clear picture of what was causing them, although my digestive system was a bit bunged up which wouldn't help. I was ok if I didn't move, but walk to the loo and I was in agony for half an hour. By lunchtime I was weeping and begging them to do something. Shortly after that the drugs arrived, and the antibiotics were accompanied by IV paracetemol - I have never heard of such a thing - but it did the job and the pain eased almost immediately. However it was obvious that I wasn't going home, so himself went off to do things and collect the list of things I might need. The PICC line was by this time completely blocked and unusable, so it seemed that it would have to come out, infection or not.
By the afternoon I had the best hotel suite in town - views across the bowling park to the sea, pretty boats sailing backwards and forwards (just to make me jealous!), three square meals supplied... what more could I want? Well, less people sticking needles in me and the lights in the car park off overnight to discourage the seagulls from using the place as a nightclub would have been an improvement but I am just being picky.
It's pretty awkward trying to find a comfortable position to sleep when you have something stuck in the inside of both elbows... after a total of two hours sleep I was not at my best on Friday morning. Nobody likes being stuck in hospital, and I didn't think I had much chance of making it to the pub to have my head shaved that evening... which would feel like letting people down.
The doc arrived and said she'd arranged a scan of the arm to check the PICC line. I then thought I would push my luck and see if I could be allowed out for a few hours to go and have my hair shaved.. she didn't think it likely but would come back and let me know.
Then I got into a massive argument over drugs which I had brought in with me and was supposed to take mid morning - which were in the ward fridge. Over about two hours this escalated as I asked for them repeatedly and got no response. Eventually I was told that I wasn't written up in their drugs register so I couldn't have it. I got a bit worked up at this point and demanded a doctor, to be told that they would be around in a couple of hours... Nurse stalked off and I sat down to weep.
The doctor arrived about ten minutes later - the nurse must have gone and demanded that she come and talk to me. She explained that actually my white cell count was high enough that I didn't need the stuff today. I couldn't understand why nobody had bothered to come and tell me this at 10.30am when I first asked, instead of ignoring me. Anyway, after a bit more weeping (I don't usually do weeping but I was pretty exhausted and still in pain) we agreed that people would remember to keep me informed a bit more.
So then I had to apologise to the nurse I had shouted at earlier, and she forgave me...

The doc came back and told me I could go out for the evening as long as I was back by 10 - Result! The scan had shown a few minor clots around the PICC line but no DVT and no real problem in the vein, so I would be prescribed some clot-clearing stuff. Specialist nurses came to investigate the PICC Line - they were adamant that it wasn't infected and that it was "just a bit of mechanical phlebitis" - easy for them to say! They put some stuff into it to try and clear it, but it didn't look good, so they went away to leave it to soak and see if things improved.
By this time the pain was much less and was being kept down with paracetemol tablets, my tum was resuming normal behaviour and after a shower I felt nearly human. Got myself dressed and organised, asked for my lift at 6... At 5.15 the nurse came back to look at the PICC line, and by some miracle, whatever she'd put in it cleared it! So that was all working and the 10pm drugs should go into that not the cannula on the other side.
So now all I had to do was go and get my hair cut...

The deed was done - I won't dwell on the details, but it took longer than we expected. We ended up with two shiny people and a huge amount of money! and I have now discovered that a recently shaved head when laid on a pillow exhibits behaviour just like velcro...
I rushed back to the hospital to arrive on the ward only five minutes late... The night shift thought the purple metallic wig most fetching! The drugs went into the PICC line perfectly and all was well... Still no comfy sleeping position but too knackered to care by now.