There also was a great deal of trouble getting into my veins. I've developed a lot of scar tissue, and with the bone meds and blood tests and who-knows-what, I've got a lot of puncturing coming at me in the future. My veins have always been exceptionally tiny and rolling and collapsing and generally very difficult to get into, even at the best of times. So although I've put off the inevitable for as long as possible, I think I won't have long before it becomes necessary for me to get a port/catheter put in.
I'm not looking forward to the whole thing one single bit... but I don't think I'll have a choice, not for long.
Since I had to inherit my dad's big bones and huge feet, why couldn't I have inherited his big veins, too? It's ridiculous that a person as big and robust-looking as myself should have such tiny, fragile, fairy-like veins.
My son is going to be in a production of 'Once Upon A Mattress', which is based upon the fairy tale 'The Princess and the Pea'. In this fairy tale, my veins are the pea.... and I am the twenty mattresses and twenty featherbeds.
I guess that makes my husband the princess?
Um. Maybe not...