That infiltrated feeling isn't a good one

Infiltrate

in-fil-treyt, in-fil-treyt

verb (used with object), in·fil·trat·ed, in·fil·trat·ing.
to filter into or through; permeate.
to cause to pass in by filtering.
to move into (an organization, country, territory, or the like) surreptitiously and gradually, especially with hostile intent.

In nursing, it has a specific meaning.

Infiltration occurs when I.V. fluid or medications leak into the surrounding tissue. Infiltration can be caused by improper placement or dislodgment of the catheter. Patient movement can cause the catheter to slip out or through the blood vessel lumen.

I present these definitions because on Wednesday at ECP, the light therapy on my blood, the needle in my right hand infiltrated. This has happened before. It is not the end of the world. But when it happens, it is painful. I usually know it the minute the needle goes in. It doesn't feel right.

Surveying the damage

Nancy, my nurse, put the large needle in my left arm, for the draw. (Drawing out my blood so that the white blood cells can be separated and treated with UVA light.) Rosalie, a nurse who had a different patient, came over to help with the return needle, the smaller one. She patted my arm and my hand vigorously to get a good vein. Actually it felt kind of like slapping. She put the needle in and went back to her patient.

I told my nurse that it hurt. She took one look and said it was infiltrated. She pulled it out. There was some extra blood. She had to bandage it up before she put the needle in a different spot. My right arm was unhappy.

Meanwhile, my left arm wasn't doing so great either. My hand had a bad case of pins and needles. You can't move your arm, so you can't shake it out. The needle in the crook of my created a dull ache.

For a while I was taking a little oxycodone before, because I had had a few bad instances of severe pain when the needle felt like it hit a nerve. I haven't even been bringing it for a while. But with both arms hurting, I said maybe I would in the future. (Tylenol doesn't do it. I can get oxycodone at ECP, but it's a major production, and Melissa had said to bring my own.)

A nice resident, new on the rotation, came over to talk. I gave him a brief history of my two-plus years at ECP, going back to when I asked my doctor why my abdomen felt like it had a bowling ball in it, and why there were ripples in my thighs, and he said it was graft vs. host disease of the skin.

He thanked me for the info. I should get a teaching fee! Then I fell asleep. When I woke up, it was almost time to leave. I wasn't sure how I slept through being that uncomfortable, but maybe it was a defense mechanism or something.