They tried to use my fistula again. Twice today. And it didn't work. My vein is really crooked and they are going at it in the wrong direction. There needs to be a straight part that is long enough for the needle to fit and they are having a hard time finding the right spots. Imagine taking a tooth pick and sticking it into a hot dog. They need to stick it down the length of the hot dog, not across the width.
So, my doctor decided to make it easier on the nurses by tracing my vein with a permanent marker. A LARGE, BLACK permanent marker! My arm is a mess. He not only traced the vein, but he also added some arrows and letters so that the nurses won't be confused on Thursday. Oh, and how about putting some clear plastic over the top of it so that it doesn't wash off. It looks like a tattoo that covers the entire upper part of my left arm. [I've thought about getting a tattoo, but I want to get it in a place where nobody could see it. So then, what's the point?] I look like I should be in the NBA.
We used our brains and decided to take a picture of the markings, too. Then I emailed it to one of the techs and they are going to print it out and keep it in my chart. In the meantime, I'm supposed to use a marker when I can to keep the important parts marked. Fun.
Another Trip...I Hope
My father-in-law turns 60 this year. To celebrate, the family is planning a trip to Gatlinburg over Thanksgiving. It'll be from Wednesday through Sunday, so I'll need to dialyze one day (Saturday). Since the social worker hasn't looked me in the eyes since she f-ed up in June, I hope this won't be a big ordeal. She did come over and give me the paperwork that I need to fill out. She promised, "It won't be a problem this time." Lord, help me.