MUGA

This test was already off to a bad start,

as I had to travel downtown,

in rush hour,

to arrive 30 minutes early,

for an 8:30 appointment.  

You can only imagine my anxiety.  

I hate driving in crazy traffic.

The drivers here are insane.

I didn't know where I was going.

It was raining.

I had to leave EARLY, and I'm not really an early morning girl. 

But, I made it.  

With an elevated blood pressure.  

When I checked in, the woman at the front desk said,

"Oh, you're here for a MOO-GA."

"I'm here for a Muh-ga."

"Okay, fill out this paperwork for your MOO-GA, 

and someone will come get you.  Also, 

paper close attention to this form.  If you can't check 'hysterectomy,'

you're going to have to take a pregnancy test."

"What about a bilateral oophorectomy?"

"What's that?"

(by this time, I had about had it with this 50-something woman, 

representing the front office of a medical facility,

who didn't know how to pronounce the test I was about to undergo,

but she had no idea what the name for the surgery to

remove ovaries is called."

It wasn't even 8:30, and I was already over it.

Thankfully, the woman next to her had overheard our conversation and explained the surgery to her colleague, who STILL wasn't sure if that could prove that I wasn't pregnant.  

"I better call back and check."

And, what do you know?

I passed.

"Just write that surgery in the blank."

(Maybe Y'ALL should make another form!)

Soon, my tech, came to get me.  

He was VERY kind, and you could tell he had been

doing this long enough to know what he was doing.  

He also had a student shadowing him.  I felt like this was going to be fine.  

Then came the really not fun part.  

There is only one nurse in that clinic who accesses ports.  

She came to start the process.  

She wasn't comfortable with my port.

"What's wrong with this port?  What kind of port is it?  How LONG have you had it?  It's so big.  It moves.  It must be a double port.  I don't know about this one."

She called it.  She didn't know about it.  Not one bit.

She stuck me several times.  

"Yes.  This HAS to be a double port."

She stuck me a few more times.

"I've NEVER had to double stick someone.  I'll try one more time."

This whole time, I'm thinking

what if my port can't be accessed and they have to do IV?

How any attempts will it take this time?  

As she kept talking and complaining about my port,

how I was sitting, where my arm was positioned,

how the doctor didn't place my port correctly, 

and so on.

After that last attempt, the nurse put a needle in, but not all the way.

She tried to move it around to find the right spot.

Every bad memory of bad IV sticks came rushing to my mind.  

I couldn't stop the tears from pouring out.  

"Maybe you should go over to the main hospital and have the nurses there access your port."

(Maybe I don't really want to do that after all I've already been through this morning!)

Thankfully, Brandon stepped in and suggested that he call a nurse from the hospital to come to us.

And, they both left me in the freezing cold MUGA room.

Finally, someone else was on their way, and I got to move out of the freezer into a warmer room to wait, complete with warm blankets and some Teddy Grahams, since I was a crying baby.  

They did suggest that I call the past chemo nurses to get info.
I also was able to get the X-ray of the actual port and its placement.
Nope.
 It's not a double port, weirdo.

MOO-GA Results:

LVEF (Left Ventricle Ejection Fraction) is 47%

55% or higher is normal.