Damn Portia

A conversation between Dr Lynn—my surgeon and Dr Kotz—my oncologist—repeated back to me by Dr Lynn as she was removing Portia:

Dr Lynn:  I have NEVER had a port rupture.

Dr Kotz:  Well, I have never had a patient crash like she does and not been able to fix it.

Dr Lynn:  Well, that’s our girl!

            Of course she says this the day after she walks in the hospital room asking me what the hell I did to Portia and that I really was a pain in the ass ( I really do like her).  Let me explain….I had my 4^th chemo on April 9 and as we all know by now, my low white blood count week starts the following Friday.  I faithfully began taking my prescribed antibiotic and my temperature.  (I made a promise to myself that if my temp was 99 or above Sunday morning, I would not go to church; it was 99.6 so I stayed home—and I would like to point out this was the first Sunday I have stayed home—not too bad).  Anyway, I puttered around and went to work around 5 for about 15 minutes as I needed to do the deposit—don’t ask—and within that 15 minutes I knew I was in trouble.  I got home, took the temp and it was 101.  Lovely.  I left a message for the on call doctor and told Mom she probably needed to get ready to go to the ER.  I packed my bag – even remembering my sleep cap—which I never did name while I was waiting to see if I won the trip to the ER.  I did win and we got there around 7pm and luckily did not wait long to get to an exam room.  Good thing as I was sitting next to this guy who smelled like smoke and he was making me sick.  Of course the other option was to move across from him, but that guy either spilled his drink or wet himself and the fact that he did not care at all made me think it was not his drink.  (And not seeing a cup helped with my deduction as well).   I get in there and my nurse—Matt—nice guy—starts to prep Portia for the needle.  And she is stinging. And I am not talking a little sting… I am talking she is stinging… something she has never done.  He then looks and says “I see metal.”   Of course he can see metal. It is me after all and it is Sunday night so why the hell not?!  Damn Portia.   Of course that gets everyone (but me) worried as she is connected to the thing that is IN my heart—I forgot that part.  As we wait to see what is happening, it is getting later and later and Mom is thinking of the drive back home.  Finally, the ER Doc comes in and says I am on my way to the 10^th floor—Mom says good bye and is out the door within seconds—after all she did have an hour drive back.  I would also like to mention at this time she is saying to me “you better not tell people I abandoned you.”  For the record—my mother did not abandon me—but boy she was out of there in record time!  In fact, she was home before I even made it to the 10^th floor. 

            Okay—so I am finally in the room and I actually was able to sleep.  Not too bad.  But, because it was someone other than Dr K, I won the fluid drip.  I hate the fluid drip.  Dr K knows that I hate the fluid drip.  I am hooked up and have to drag that thing around with me.  He comes in and I am so excited to see him I forget to ask him about the drip. (Stupid, stupid, stupid.  So I am stuck with it until he comes by Tuesday am).  Anyway, my counts have started to go up, typical for me, but he tells me the port is coming out and he will think about what we will do.  Damn Portia.  Fast forward to Tuesday am and I am done with the stupid fluids.  I hate smelling like saline and I hate tasting the stuff and it makes everything taste bad.  So when Dr K walks in, I am telling him I didn’t care if I had to stay until Wednesday, but get rid of the fluids.  He kinda laughed and said no problem.  He then looks at my count shakes his head and says “Counts are normal; you can go after the port is removed.” Yay me!!!!!!!   He then informs me I am going to have to get a pic line for the last 2 treatments.  I had no idea what he was talking about, but I have to do what I have to do.  He leaves and Dr Lynn comes in to take out Portia.  I will not lie, she had to numb the area and that needle hurt like hell and she had to stick me a few times before she could take Portia out.  Whew, it was finally done and I could go home—took a while to get released and as Jen was wheeling me out, I said “see you in a few weeks” and she agreed.  For the record, Jen has been one of my nursing assistants all 3 times.   

            I am set to get my pic line on Friday, just in time for my 5^th chemo on Monday.  Hopefully it will not be too bad, but apparently again I will lose my left arm to some sort of contraption. But the end is in sight.  If all goes as planned (hahaha!!) my last chemo will be May 21.   Then the radiation will begin but so will the hair growth and I can’t wait to see what that looks like.  Cha cha chia!

            Oh and in case you were wondering about Portia, I have possession and I am thinking necklace.  

3 months....

It has been exactly 3 months today since Dr Lynn walked into the recovery room and told me the tumor was 2.3 cm and 4 out of 20 lymph nodes had cancer.  Translation: Stage 3 breast cancer.  It has been an interesting ride—mostly ups with a few downs.  I have learned quite a few things—some things I could have gone my entire life not knowing about and some things which I am grateful for learning.

 

Things cancer has taught me:

·         Wigs can be misplaced.

·         Chemo brain does exist.

·         I have a great staff.

·         Always get a port.

·         I need to send more cards to people.

·         My sense of smell has improved.

·         I am loved.

·         I still really hate needles.

·         Mom is an awesome caregiver.

·         I can slow down and not do it all.

·         A sense of humor is worth its weight in gold.

·         Facebook friends can cheer you instantly.

·         Hospitals are not too bad.

·         Nothing better than clean sheets.

·         Spicy foods taste good.

·         Some people gain weight instead of losing it.

·         Side effects are a pain in the ass.

·         Only some side effects can be treated.

·         Sleep is overrated.

·         Soft tissues and soft toilet paper are a must.

·         Kids get it. 

·         It is what it is so deal with it.

·         I am surrounded by loving, thoughtful people.

·         Wildflowers make me smile.

·         Good medical care makes all the difference.

·         I need to reach out to people more.

·         I am stronger than I ever thought possible.

·         Prayer works.

·         My plans are not God’s plans.

·         God is in control.

There are so many quotes, Bible verses which can be used to explain, describe the past 3 months.  I think this one pretty much nails it: 2 Corinthians 5:7 We live by faith, not by sight.

Detours and needles.....

DETOUR: NOUN

1. A roundabout way or course, especially a road used temporarily instead of a main route.

2. A deviation from a direct course of action.

     Again, I just can’t do it the easy way.  Started with the call to Billy last Sunday night—it went like this:  
Me:  Got a 99.9 fever, am not telling Mom.  Took some Advil, so it should take it down—right?
Bill:  It’s not that bad, but take it and see. 
Me:  Remember, if anything happens to me, I did talk to a doctor so it is not my fault.
Bill:  Okay.

            Well, the fever went to 101 and thanks to normal drugs, not the poison I have been experienceing; it was down to 98 which is good (well in my mind anyway).  I continued to take my normal drugs all day and felt great.  I even told Mom I had a fever but all was good.  Famous last words….  I woke up Tuesday with a fever of 100 and a really guilty feeling of I should have called yesterday.  So I called Susan, who agreed I more than likely masked the fever, but she needed to tell Dr K and would call me back.  She called me back and told me to come on down.  I told her I needed a shower… she told me no—he was only there until noon.  I whined and said it’s not like I have to do my hair… she told me to MOVE IT!  (I took the shower).

            Seeing as Mom was already at her own appointment in Wilmington, I drove myself—as I said before, I did not feel bad at all, however, I did have that I am going back to the 10^th floor feeling.   I go in and get the first blood draw—out of the arm.  And then waited for them to draw from Portia.  I felt good when Susan found me before they drew from Portia.  Mom had just called and she said let’s do lunch (I still had that 10^th floor feeling), but I said okay.   Susan puts me in the office and Dr K comes in and just shakes his head.  I knew.  Automatic admittance is when the white blood count is .5 and I was at a .510.  Whew--- there was a sliver of light….which lasted a mere minute.  He just looked at me and I knew.  I told him I was good with it, understood and then I promised if I got a fever again I would call and not wait.  We talked about my next round and he is going to up the antibiotic as I am crashing so low.   Then Dr K said the most important statement he could have ever said.   “We are going for the cure and I am not reducing the strength of the chemo.”    And that is why I am blessed to have him.   So off I went to Susan, who was calling in my reservation for the 10^th floor just as Mom is walking around the corner thinking we were going to lunch—I set her straight with “I’m not going to lunch, I am going to the 10^th floor.” She took it well. And lucky me, there was a room ready for me so no waiting.  It actually took me longer to find a parking space then it did to check in and get upstairs.  (I was really glad I had driven through Bojangles earlier—little did Susan know… a shower, Bojangles and I still got there in decent time!).

            I was hoping to have Leigh again as my day nurse (and trust me, I realized the next day why I really needed her!!) but it was not to be.  My day nurse shall remain nameless as she tortured me while accessing Portia.  Granted, she had no clue, but I am sure she knows now (thanks to my second day nurse Allison and Leigh who stopped by a few times Wednesday).  She was getting ready to put the needle it and I happened to turn around.  That sucker was huge, nothing like I had ever seen before.  The holy shit was out of my mouth before I could control it and louder than I thought.  I happened to look out my door—which was open for some reason and would you believe some guy with a clerical collar is walking by—but at least he smiled at me.  (I am not Catholic, but I sure felt like confessing). Anyway, she continued with the needle and I will say it hurt like hell.  I whimpered, but did not cry and trust me, I wanted to, but I kept thinking I am bigger than the needle. (Yeah—chemo brain kicked in, as I am NOT bigger than any needle).  Said needle stayed in the entire stay and it hurt the entire stay.  Oh well, on the positive side, as there is a positive side to everything, I only got antibiotics and no fluids, so I did not have  to drag a shadow with me this time—nor did I smell like saline, such a delightful smell.  

            I did forget to pack my still to be named night cap, which caused me a few moments of concern.  I was wearing Lizzie and she was creeping up – talk about high hair. Plus she was getting hot.  Donna, the night nursing assistant was awesome—she found a pediatric gown and I was able to use it.  Okay, it looked hilarious, but it worked and I was happy.  She also tracked down a cherry Italian ice so she was my favorite nursing assistant. 

            Back to Allison, Leigh and that damn needle.  My counts were back to normal by the time Dr K came in at 7:30am and he wanted to wait until the end of the day to make a decision.  Turns out he was waiting for 24 hours for some kind of bacteria test to come back.  He surprised me at 430pm and sprung me.  Good thing too as not only was the needle still killing me, but the lady next door must have been trying to cough up a lung and she always wanted her door open and she complained a lot. (Yes, I heard all of this through my closed door—very annoying).  So Allison and Leigh came in to finish the paperwork and to take out that damn needle.  Leigh sees the needle and freaks--- “why in the world is that huge thing in your arm?”  Ummmm, day nurse put it there… at which point she says to Allison “we need to train her… that is the biggest needle I have seen! “  It figures.

            I have been home a few days and feel great.  The worst I felt this week was in the hospital (amusing if you ask me).  I went back to work for a few hours and actually worked a full day (for a Saturday) and it was great.  I still get tired very easily and I know I over do it at times, but I am also very well aware of when it is time to stop.  This is a “good” week and I am going to take advantage of it.   Next week is round 4 and then it will be downhill from there.  The done light is getting brighter and brighter.   Yes, I am sure there will be more detours, but I am getting better at accepting those.  I wonder when all of this is over if I will revert back to hating those detours or actually find a way to accept and embrace them? Time will tell!

Hebrews 4:16