A Port in a Storm

Rain blew sideways yesterday and the wind tore the leaves off the trees. Winter was stomping around Portland, although the calendar says it’s five weeks too early. I was high atop Pill Hill, ensconced in a brick and mortar beehive of medical activity waiting (and waiting) for a port to be put in.

The port is a device that will allow me to get chemo and blood draws without getting poked in the arm. It feeds directly into the heart, which sounds alarming. However, since I have tiny, deep, elusive veins, getting poked over and over again each time someone wanted to start an IV sounded a lot more alarming.

I got there at 9:30 as requested and was given a gown to wear that was meant for someone at least 150 heavier than me. I dutifully put it on, got into bed, and started reading my book. The nurse started an IV on me (after getting embarassed because she couldn't get it on the first try - I assured her she was doing fine and that I was used to multiple needle sticks. She got it on the second try.) Then I got a lot of reading done. Fortunately, I had a good book. I didn’t have anyone come by to talk to me about surgery until 12:30. I was asked all sorts of questions which emphasized to me just how healthy I really am (except for a touch of cancer). I could say “no” to a long list of ailments. The only thing that popped up was mild asthma, mild anemia, and a history of sub-acute thyroiditis. I felt very grateful for such a long disease-free existence.

It turns out that I didn’t have to have general anesthesia for this procedure. I was delighted to hear that. I couldn’t take valium (it makes me anxious instead of calming me down). I asked for something to make me a little loopy, but to use a light touch. They gave me some sort of narcotic. I was awake during the operation and that was fine. Dr. Pommier kept assuring me that I wouldn’t remember a thing about it since I had been given drugs that induce amnesia, but it turns out that I remembered everything. I listened to my media player and to the conversations in the OR. Dr. P. leaned against me as he worked, a pressure that I found oddly comforting. I could feel a lot of poking around as they put in the device, but not a sharp poking around since I had a local anesthetic. I couldn’t see anything because I had a cover over my face, but I was happy enough. At the end the resident and the med student cheerfully mopped all the betadine off of me, from neck to navel, which was an odd experience. I was aware of being just a body on a table, not particularly concerned about my nakedness as they mopped away. They were pretty sure I wouldn’t remember and therefore there was a certain freedom that we all felt about the situation.

I didn’t need to go to the recovery room so Dr. P. himself wheeled my bed back to Short Stay. Howard and Jasper joined me there. Howard is now a bi-ped. He got his cast off yesterday and his foot bone is healed. He’s got a walking boot and he’s using a cane, which is a vast improvement over crutches. It’s such a relief. I really need him to be more functional than he has been of late.

We waited around for a chest x-ray, which came to me instead of me going to it. Dr. P. got the results within 20 minutes and read it on the computer in front of me and declared the port good and properly placed. Howard and Jasper came over for a look and he gave them a tour of my insides. I wanted to get up and take the tour as well, but it seemed like a lot of bother at the time, especially as I was still hooked up to an IV.

The papers were signed, I was released, the IV was taken out, I got dressed again and Jasper drove us home. I discovered that having a port put in was a lot more painful than having a mastectomy, at least for me. Pain medication seemed like a very good idea. I had sort of a rough night, but I used my wakefulness as a chance to tap and reprogram myself. After all, I have quite the adventure coming up today. It will be my first day of chemo. I'm a little apprehensive since I haven't had a lot of time to heal fromt the port, but hopefully I'll do well. I heard Dr. P tell his resident in the OR that usually, one likes to have a few days between having the port put in and chemo so that there is more of an opportunity to heal, especially since the white blood cell count will be down. However, it's not unusual to do it this way either. I hope my normally strong constitution will see me through.