This morning I woke up and my stomach was uneasy. Port removal day. Excited and scared all mixed up. We dropped off my daughter and I drove to the hospital. Check in was quick, I have done it so many times before so I knew the drill. I changed and waited for them to come in and tell me about the complications. Signed release papers. Again, kind of sad that I know the drill. The nurse that drew my blood was not good at all. She put the IV in an odd place on my arm. It hurt so bad! Then she could not draw blood from it, so what does that mean? Another stick, yay! Finally, I was on my way up. Luckily the patient transport guy had a sense of humor and had me laughing on the way up. That is always a good thing. When I got to the holding room, I could hear the lady next me - we were only separated by a curtain. She was old, r e a l l y old. She was there to get her port installed so that she could start chemo. I felt bad for her. I wanted to tell her that it was going to be alright, but I do not think that she understood what was going on. Then I felt bad because when the nurse came to talk to me, we were laughing and joking and celebrating. The nurse made a big deal about how good this day was and how far I have come. I really appreciated it, but I still felt bad for the lady next to me. As they wheeled her out, I said a prayer for her. Then as they wheeled me in I realized that in the rush of things, I forgot to pray for me! So as I was shimmying over to the table I was praying my little heart out.
The doctor told me that there were two options. I was confused and slightly hoping that one option was going to be to remove it with his Jedi mind trick rather than slicing into me. The nurse popped in and said no, I need the juice. Then I realized he wanted to remove it without the mild sedation and I started to laugh telling him no, please start the drugs now. I also asked if I could keep the port and they explained that it was biohazard and they do not allow people to keep them anymore. I didn't think to take my phone with me into the surgery, but if I did I could have had them take a picture of it. Interesting. Before I new it, the drugs were in and they started numbing the area. I could feel when they started, so they had to give me a little more to numb the area. I didn't even feel when they pulled the port out. Then there was a bit of excitement. Apparently, there is a small plastic valve that goes between the port and the tube. It was not there. It also was not in the cavity of where the port was. They had another guy come and look to make sure nothing was left behind while another guy was pulling up my scans from when it was installed. Then they did a chest xray (remember I am still opened up at this point) to make sure that the valve was definitely not there. I start freaking out right about then when I realize I am still open and exposed. They finally pull the scans from the installation and realize that the valve was not there to begin with. They ensure that everything is fine and begin to stitch me up.
When I get back down to recovery, they have a tray waiting for me and I see this lady walk by. Ahh, a familiar face! You have to remember, I was still loopy from the cocktail they gave me. I looked her and was like, "Hey, I know you! Your are from the Cancer Center! Do you remember me!?!?" We talk and catch up since I have not seen her in months. She is doing good, you know considering. The time after goes by so quick. By the time I was done with my tray, they were taking the IV out (which I have a lovely ginormous bruise from) and I was on my way. On the way home, I touched my neck. It freaked me out for a minute because I could not feel the tail from the port. Panic set in for a few seconds when I realized, duh, it was just removed - you are not going to feel it anymore. It will be something to get used to. I took a nap when I got home, but then the pain woke me up. Wish I had another day off to sleep, but off to work in the morning...
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