Postpartum Complications Scene 8: My IV Vein and a Sweet Nurse

(Scene seven is here.)

In the midst of all the chaos about my kidneys failing and my bladder possibly being injured, my IV vein is not doing well—it hurts so badly that I have to put an ice pack on it whenever my medicine starts flowing.

“It stings,” I tell my nurse as she hands me a new ice pack.

“You know, I really think the IV team should come and look at it. I don’t want your medicine leaking out of your vein.”

The image of my medicine leaking into my arm horrifies me. I imagine my body as some kind of chemical dump yard—far from the healthy person I was before I gave birth.

“Call the anesthesia team first, please. I cannot be awake if they need to give me a new IV. I really cannot handle that right now,” I blurt out irrationally.

“You have to be awake if they give you a new IV. They have to confirm that they placed it correctly,” she tells me, hesitantly.

“No, really, I cannot be awake if they give me a new IV,” my anger explodes into sobs.

My preferences in this situation do not matter. I know this. A nurse from the IV team will come to my room. And I will be awake when she does.

***

“Here let me check your vein,” a nurse from the IV team says.

She is incredibly kind and I feel like a maniac for hating IVs so much.

“You know what? I can feel your medicine going in your vein. It’s fine—I don’t think you need a new IV yet,” she smiles.

“Really?” I say as my whole body relaxes.

Then she holds my hand and asks me about my son’s birth. She asks me how I am doing. To her, I am more than my test results.

I cry as I tell her about how traumatic the birth was and how much I miss my baby now.

“I can’t believe all of this happened,” I say. And she cries with me. She is a mom, too.

(Scene nine is here.)

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