Flashback

I was listening to the song “Comfortably Numb” by Pink Floyd on the car radio. Now, I’ve heard that song a hundred times and never much thought about it (although when I was drinking, the chorus line “I have become comfortably numb” had a definite appeal). But this time, the line “When I was young I had a fever, my hands felt just like two balloons” struck a chord (pardon the pun) with me...

I was, like, 20 years old and had just been admitted to St. Joe’s hospital with chest pains (the diagnosis eventually was for pericarditis, but I didn’t know it then). I was in the intensive care ward hooked to all kinds of monitors and they were trying to pump fluids into me.

Now, I am sure I have mentioned I have crappy veins, so they had tried unsuccessfully several times to get a line in me. I was hurting and scared and all that poking and twisting of big needles in both arms wasn’t helping the situation.

But, they finally got one in the back of my right hand. That night, the guy in the bed next to me died despite their frantic efforts to save him. That didn't help my mental state, either.

The next morning, my hand was swollen up like a catcher’s mitt! Apparently, they missed the vein and the saline (or whatever it was) just filled up my hand.

The day shift nurses found it and said, “Well, the chart said they couldn’t get a vein in his arms, so let’s try it in his foot.” I completely lost it and started crying and begging them not to put it in my foot. They relented and finally used a butterfly needle (that they use on infants) to successfully get a line in one of my arms.

But, I do believe that was the one and only time in all my hospitalizations over all the years that I ever cried...