I feel pretty good tonight, because something is finally happening to move my recovery forward. Day 1 of treatment is complete! My first radiation treatment was, as I expected, quick and painless; a breeze (though I do still need to get over feeling a little self-conscious about lying there with all kinds of people staring at my rear end - I suppose my sympathy should be for their feelings, not mine - I don't have to put up with their view).
Next trick was the removal of the dressings around my new port and the first chemo hookup. I'll admit to feeling pretty apprehensive about that...the idea of someone stabbing at the spot with this still-healing incision wasn't appealing. I decided to take a very deep breath and trust the nurse. Once again, I was pleasantly surprised by how easy and comfortable it was. Removing the surgical dressing hurt a whole lot more than the needle insertion. Now I have to get used to lugging around a portable pump, which makes a little whirring noise every minute or so. It took a couple of hours to get past the fear that I was going to get the tubing caught on something and disconnect the whole mess; next hurdle is figuring out how to lie in bed with this thing attached. And then how to take a shower without dropping it, and then how to make sure the dogs don't jump on me, and then...I figure I'll have mastered living with the thing just before it's time to get rid of it. :)
But I have no real complaints about it. My 6 year old is not happy about the carrying bag (the pump itself is purple, so that works for her, but the bag apparently falls short in the style department). I, however, love everything about the pump, because it's saving my life. Every time I hear it whirr, I think, "HA! Zapped!" and picture scared little cancer cells melting like the Wicked Witch of the West.
My overwhelming emotion today was gratitude. We are in the middle of a truly disgusting winter weather season here in Boston, and yesterday brought another huge pile of snow followed by sleet and rain this morning, creating a messy, dangerous commute today. And yet the people at the hospital who are helping me get better came to work and didn't complain about it. I tried to make a point of thanking them for it, and to tell them not to worry about delays and interrupted schedules on a day like this. It's no small thing for hospital workers, police, firefighters, road crews, and other heroes to brave the elements to help the rest of us.
OK. One day finished, 27 more to go. I have a lot more to say about some of the emotional challenges of this situation, but there's plenty of time for that.
Showing posts with label chemotherapy port. Show all posts
Showing posts with label chemotherapy port. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
Monday, January 31, 2011
Any Port in a Storm
Today was chemotherapy port placement day. While I'm not usually squeamish about any kind of medical procedure (with the exception of everything that happens at the dentist), I have to admit I was a little nervous about this one. Reading things like this Wikipedia entry that explain the procedure very simply, but that also mention devices being implanted under my skin with a tube running into the jugular vein and then directly towards the heart, well...yikes.
Turns out the implantation was no big deal. So far, my experience with every nurse, imaging tech, and aide in oncology and surgery at Mass General has been great. Maybe these people are just nicer because they know they're dealing with patients who are fighting for their lives, but whatever the reason, I've yet to feel like anyone taking care of me was anything other than professional, competent, and really caring. I even got a hug from one of the older nurses as I was leaving the OR today (well, as much as a hug as you can give someone who's strapped down to a table and who's kind of loopy, but still). The radiologist who put the port in was straightforward, respectful and encouraging. Once again, thanks to some lovely sedatives, I felt absolutely no pain. I had an IV with some antibiotics, got snugly tucked in to a table with lots of sterile drapes and warm blankets, and then had some really weird half-dreams while I was under sedation (yet was also somehow conscious enough to understand what the doctor was saying as he explained what he was doing and when - not sure how that works, or if I imagined the whole thing). I was a little loopy and seasick from the sedatives on the drive home. Now, about 8 hours later, the port site and the right side of my neck are a little sore, but there's no sharp pain. It's about the way you feel if you have a bad bruise, or have pulled a muscle lifting something the wrong way. I had visions of sharp pain from bleeding incisions - not at all. If you're about to get one of these things, fear not. You may be achy, but for me the worst feeling right now is the itchy adhesive that's holding down these dressings. I can live with that.
So now I'm all set for the real treatment to start. I'll go in for a radiation simulation tomorrow (a test run with imaging but no actual "zapping," as my kids are calling it), then a chemotherapy teaching session during which I'll learn how to maintain the port and manage my portable chemo pump, and then on Wednesday morning, the fun begins. Bloodwork at 8:30, first chemo at 9, first radiation at 9:45. I'm ready to start scaring this tumor AWAY. If everything else goes as smoothly as the port placement did, this will all be a breeze. :)
Turns out the implantation was no big deal. So far, my experience with every nurse, imaging tech, and aide in oncology and surgery at Mass General has been great. Maybe these people are just nicer because they know they're dealing with patients who are fighting for their lives, but whatever the reason, I've yet to feel like anyone taking care of me was anything other than professional, competent, and really caring. I even got a hug from one of the older nurses as I was leaving the OR today (well, as much as a hug as you can give someone who's strapped down to a table and who's kind of loopy, but still). The radiologist who put the port in was straightforward, respectful and encouraging. Once again, thanks to some lovely sedatives, I felt absolutely no pain. I had an IV with some antibiotics, got snugly tucked in to a table with lots of sterile drapes and warm blankets, and then had some really weird half-dreams while I was under sedation (yet was also somehow conscious enough to understand what the doctor was saying as he explained what he was doing and when - not sure how that works, or if I imagined the whole thing). I was a little loopy and seasick from the sedatives on the drive home. Now, about 8 hours later, the port site and the right side of my neck are a little sore, but there's no sharp pain. It's about the way you feel if you have a bad bruise, or have pulled a muscle lifting something the wrong way. I had visions of sharp pain from bleeding incisions - not at all. If you're about to get one of these things, fear not. You may be achy, but for me the worst feeling right now is the itchy adhesive that's holding down these dressings. I can live with that.
So now I'm all set for the real treatment to start. I'll go in for a radiation simulation tomorrow (a test run with imaging but no actual "zapping," as my kids are calling it), then a chemotherapy teaching session during which I'll learn how to maintain the port and manage my portable chemo pump, and then on Wednesday morning, the fun begins. Bloodwork at 8:30, first chemo at 9, first radiation at 9:45. I'm ready to start scaring this tumor AWAY. If everything else goes as smoothly as the port placement did, this will all be a breeze. :)
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