My Suffering for Success theory takes a hit and the container of vomit

I was stuck five times this afternoon while they tried get a long line in and I cried after the second failed attempt. I have often been stuck several times and remained tear-free, so why the waterworks? Sometimes the back and forth hospital visits and the constant sticking start to wear on me. Sometimes I need a moment to feel that I am just a wee bit cursed. The running commentary from the nurse on just how much my veins suck didn't really help either. 


Also, I couldn't stop thinking about how nice of a day I was having 24 hours earlier. I got to have lunch with my dear friend Olivia, whom I hadn't seen in three years. She always makes me laugh and she's an inspiration. When we were students she wanted to be a writer, and now she is a writer. She is doing what she wants to do even though it is hard at times and, for this reason, I am in awe. Plus, she didn't think my blog was rubbish, and that made me happy. 


I also got a visit from my wonderful friend Pam. Pam is a CF physio and we always have a good giggle when together. I told her that I liked her hair, which had grown out a bit, and she said it was becoming a mullet. It isn't a mullet in any shape or form, but I couldn't help expressing disbelief as to why anyone would choose to have a mullet. "Front for business, back for pleasure," she had said. I thought this was very funny indeed.  She made me laugh several more times and I didn't even feel that distressed when it was pointed out that my arm was swelling at the IV site and clearly needed to come out.


Thus, 24 hours later, as I was getting stabbed repeatedly, I couldn't help but think that this afternoon kinda stunk in comparison to yesterday. I was also starting to realise that my Suffering for Success theory wasn't holding up so well; I was experiencing a fair amount of suffering and very little, if any, success. 


Nurse I Like The BIg Obvious Vein made attempt number five in the big, obvious vein in my right arm. After this try failed, he could see that my "I am hard as nails" act was not coming out to play today and put a cannula in my left arm. Afterwards, the nurse who had made attempts three and four came back and asked if I wanted her to get a doctor to try for long line attempt number six. I thought about it but decided that five stabbings had been enough and it was time to throw in the towel for the day. 


I made my way toward the ground floor, but my day wasn't over quite yet. I needed some blood drawn and so got stabbing number six ... right in the big, obvious vein that had already been stabbed twice less than an hour before. 


As I made towards the exit I was feeling pretty beat up. I know I live in a semi-rough area of London but six stabbings in a day still came as a bit of a shock. And I was feeling a little sorry for myself until I passed by a styrofoam container full of vomit sitting by itself on wall of the cancer hospital (located next to my hospital). I am pretty anti-vomit, mine or otherwise, so it made me kinda want to vomit looking at it, naturally. Still, the random, lonely container of sick struck me as a bit odd. It seemed like the universe was trying to tell me something. I think it was trying to tell me that things could be much worse. Or maybe it was just trying to remind me that random containers of vomit are really gross and the polite thing to do is to take your vomit container with you when you go.