What to Expect During a PICC Line Insertion for Chemotherapy
The lyrics from “How to Save a Life” by The Fray echo around me in shops as the diagnosis is still so fresh. And we’re preparing for more appointments.
Waiting for the PICC Line Insertion
Anyone who has been diagnosed with cancer knows—that is not a fun wait.
For those unfamiliar, a PICC line (Peripherally Inserted Central Catheter) is a line inserted into your arm to deliver chemotherapy drugs and other treatments. It’s placed once and usually stays in for the duration of your treatment—often several months.
I’d already had cannulas fitted for scans, which was fine, but certainly not what anyone would call enjoyable. So, the thought of a bigger version being implanted through my arm and into my chest grew in my mind to nightmare proportions. I pushed it to the back of my mind for a while, but it quickly became a regular thought—one that could make my blood run hot.
I looked at a diagram of the insertion, with the line stopping just above the heart, and thought, “I guess… let’s see what this is going to be like.” I know everyone’s experience is different, so I’ll just share mine.
Doing a Bit of Research Helps
I read somewhere that many people need to have their PICC line adjusted after initial insertion. I kept this in mind on the day of my appointment—and I’m glad I did. It helped reduce the stress, just knowing what to expect.
To be honest, imagining the procedure as more like taking a car to a garage helped calm my nerves. There’s mess, expertise, and real people doing the work. That was easier to handle than expecting perfection or praying for a flawless experience.
I asked myself what I was really afraid of. It wasn’t the pain—I realised it was fear of the unknown, and of becoming more vulnerable. But I also recognised just how much care and attention the staff put into easing those concerns.
Meeting the Team: Jack and the Nurses
The nurse performing the procedure was named Jack—a comforting coincidence, as it’s a family name. His assisting nurse was older and turned out to be more experienced than he was, which honestly made me feel relieved.
At the start of the appointment—just me, my partner, and the two nurses chatting—I felt anxiety creeping in. So I made a decision: I went all in and got personal. I kept chinwagging. I asked the important medical questions, of course, but then we veered into movies. We had a long debate about the new Star Wars films vs. the originals. (I love trashing the prequels—don’t come for me!)
Jack has two kids, so we talked a lot about sci-fi and fantasy. It helped me feel so much more relaxed. Honestly, I think that’s part of why this foreign object—this PICC line—has stayed welcome in my body for so long (we’re at 11 weeks now). Historically, my body pushes out anything it doesn’t want: piercings, hormonal implants, splinters… boyfriends, girlfriends.
The PICC Line Procedure: What It Was Really Like
Jack explained the procedure, and then they began. I felt a small prick from the anaesthetic in my right arm, but otherwise, very little. I chose not to watch. They used two screens to guide the line—very sci-fi!
After a minute, Jack asked me to turn my chin to the right. I was aware of some blood, so I kept my eyes shut.
Then it was time for an X-ray upstairs to confirm if the line was correctly positioned.
If You Have Anxiety, You’re Not Alone
I live with anxiety, so stress often shows up in weird ways. I’ll feel fine, and then—bam—my legs won’t work. So I got a nice ride to the X-ray in a giant wheelchair, which drifted to the left like a wonky shopping trolley. (My left side is definitely the weaker one right now!)
We waited ten minutes for the X-ray result. And—yep—the line needed adjustment. Back down we went.
Thankfully, because I already knew this was a possibility, it didn’t throw me off. I even regained use of my jelly legs pretty quickly. And all the hospital staff have been extremely understanding any time I have been struggling to cope, or walk like Bambi!
Second Time’s the Charm
They repeated the whole PICC line insertion from start to finish. It didn’t take long.
It hurt a little more the second time because the anaesthetic had worn off—so don’t be afraid to ask for more if that happens! After the second X-ray confirmed it was correctly placed, we were free to go.
Looking Ahead
I’ve been meaning to drop in and say hi to Jack since then, to thank him for being part of the amazing NHS team supporting me through this journey. But my chemo-memory is terrible, so I’m hoping I can eventually navigate all the departments and corridors in that giant place and maybe even get some group photos by the end of treatment.
For now, the PICC line is in—supplying me, and everyone else on the ward, with life-saving chemotherapy. Liquid gold. Administered by angels.
Here’s a quick pic of some flowers from a fledgling supplier in Dartmouth which I plan to use in my next foodie photos on my instagram.
C A K E Y T I T S 