Going, going... gone?

"That's not good. I can't feel the cuff." Said the specialist nurse. Her brow furrowed with concern and concentration, as her fingers moved deftly up my chest and neck probing the skin for the tell tale lump. "When did you notice the line looked different?" She asked suddenly. 

"This morning when I was getting changed, I noticed that the junction where the lumens part was outside the dressing. It wasn't in that position yesterday."

Starting to slip. Not that I knew it then...

The nurses frown grew.  She pulled off her gloves, the soft slapping sound broke the increasingly tense silence. I knew what she was thinking, it had crossed my mind the moment I first saw my line. I was the first to break the silence, "it's falling out isn't it." The words stuck in my throat. Hot tears began to form, making my eyes sting. The nurse glanced at her college, who had been hovering so close to the curtains I'd forgotten she was even there. The look they exchanged told me all I needed to know.

She nodded. "It certainly looks that way, but we won't know for sure until I've reviewed your post opp measurements and have given the line a full visual examination. I'll get the sterile measuring kit" My heart sank. Just my luck. Two days post op and the damn thing is already slipping out. I wish I'd just put up with the allergic reaction from the stat lock* after all. Anything is better than this, even red hot rashes and blisters the size of ping pong balls! And with that thought, my heart sank further. The stat lock. Oh god! Is that why it's falling out?! No, can't be. I shook my head. No. Much more likely it was this morning's nurse tugging it whilst giving meds. Thank god I held on to it!

Triumphant. Line redressed.

Lost deep in my musings, I hadn't noticed the two nurses leave until the rattle of a metal trolley barging through my closed curtains announced their return, dragging me back to earth. I landed with a bump. The metal trolley was laden. A full sterile dressing pack lay open, gloves, syringes, alcohol wipes and several measuring tapes spilling over its surface. Hands sterilised, I began to peal of the dressing covering my new life line with the same care you would afford a live grenade.

Gently taking the weight of the line with one gloved hand, the nurse carefully began her examination to decide my fate. Her other hand was a whirl of measuring tape and prodding. You could have cut the tension with a knife. I closed my eyes. Willing everything be ok? "Hmm... yes it's out by at least 3 cm. Stitches look good though" she mused. Her fingers probed deeper into my bruised and swollen tissue. The pain was sharp as a dagger. It took my breath away.

Suddenly, the roaming fingers stopped. Another hand joined the poking, it's fingers pressing slightly harder, more furtively. "Aha!" Exclaimed the nurse. Her partner was as startled as I was, jumping in surprise. "What?! What is it?!" But the nurse was on a different planet, eyes closed.

"Yes. It's defiantly there. The cuff is still in a reasonable place. It's moved, but it will still be able to do its job and tunnel into your vein over time." I couldn't quite allow myself to believe it.
"So it's still ok to use?" She nodded, smiling. The relief on her face was obvious. "And I'm still ok to go home today?!" She nodded again.

"As long as you're happy. Just make sure you keep an eye on it until the stitches come out in 5 weeks time".

I hadn't realised until then that I'd been holding my breath. Slowly I exhaled, relief seeping through me like a warm liquid until every nook and crannie was glowing. It's not often you dance with the devil and come out on top.

*A small clamp like devise that adheres to the skin, holding the line in place.