X’s life became a new routine of home life and clinic life. After his first chemotherapy treatment, X didn’t know how he’d feel. Everyone told him how bad chemo could make a person feel, but he had felt surprising well after his treatments, until a few days afterwards. Then, the fatigue set in.
The grand fatigue came like a hammer on his head. Any movement would put him out of breath. Just going to the refrigerator from the couch would leave him gasping for breath. It was useless for him to even go near the kitchen because he’d completely lost his appetite. Something was wrong though, was he supposed to feel this tired? As the days went slowly by at home, his fatigue worsened. His skin had turned a chalky dead white and very cold to the touch. He began having cold shivers so awful that his teeth would literally chatter. He’d never felt so weak in his entire life. X’s dad called the clinic and spoke to the nurse about his condition. The nurse advised X to come in for an immediate blood transfusion. She told him the reason for all these symptoms was probably a lack of red blood cells. The chemotherapy breaks down your body so much that it cannot produce red blood cells fast enough to keep you energised.
X’s dad put him in the truck and took him directly to the clinic. It had been a summer day but X asked for the heater to be turned on. His teeth continued to chatter. They arrived at the clinic and his dad got a wheelchair to bring in X. His dad rolled X into the hospital, his head was hanging to his chest from fatigue. He was literally ice cold. They found their way to the right floor and entered the room.
Many families were there with their sick children. Babies were in strollers attached to chemotherapy fluids. Young toddlers played in the corner with bald heads. Dad checked X in at the desk while X tried everything he could to fight back his tears. He couldn’t believe what was happening. He felt so helpless and small. He was freezing from the inside out with his hands shaking uncontrollably. The nurses provided some warm blankets while they weighed him and took his blood pressure. With each new experience, X thought he’d break down into a babbling mess of tears. At one point, he did start to cry, but he then he pulled it deep inside of himself.
Why? Why was he so afraid to show his fear?
The nurse rolled him into the transfusion room to begin the transfusion process. X took his shirt off to expose the internal catheter that was implanted into his chest. He’d been told that the catheter would make all of his IV lines easier to put in each time. They’d push the needle in directly into the chest where the catheter, or port, is attached to a major vein that transports whatever is in the needle. This time was supposedly for three pints of blood. The nurse told X she wanted to feel the port a little to find the entry.
She proceeded to tell him that she was going to insert the needle.
She pierced his chest.
X felt the thick needle sink in.
It was the first time he’d had this sensation of being pierced on his open chest by a needle.
Then the nurse said, “I missed the port, I’ve got to do it again.”
X said it was OK, still feeling the burning sensation from the first attempt. The nurse tried again and missed the target again. Her hands began to tremble. X told her to just stick the damn thing in and get it over with. He was so tired and cold. On her third attempt, X fainted.
Complete blackness without sound.
When X’s eyes popped open again, he immediately heard an alarm going off and felt people rushing all around him. Between the fatigue and fainting, he’d been completely disoriented. The people were trying to pick him up out of the wheelchair and put him on a hospital table.
X screamed at the nurse who tried to lift him up by his broken leg,
“DON’T TOUCH MY LEG! IT’S BROKEN!”
They got him on the table when his doctor arrived. The doctor asked if everything was all right. He calmed everyone down and told the nurse to turn off the Code Red alarm. Another nurse finally came and inserted the needle into his port on the first attempt. Shortly after, he received his first of many blood transfusions. With each new pint he’d felt better and better. Colour came back into his face and he left the clinic feeling recharged and warm.
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