Aye, Aye, Matey! The Port Has Sailed!
O.K., The port has been removed, and it wasn’t all that bad. I registered at the hospital the day before. I had been told that my appointment was at 8:00 for the next day. Awhile after leaving the hospital, I received a phone message confirming my 8:00 appointment with a 7:00 arrival. Oh, well, what’s one hour earlier? One less hour to be up without food or coffee so there’s a bright side. Krista drove me to the hospital, and Kathi met us there. We signed in at Radiology and then went to the main waiting room. They called me in shortly. I asked my escort if anyone ever ended up in another department (like Intensive Care) from having this procedure. She assured me that this would be very easy. Problem was she thought I was having a port placement. When I said it was a port removal, she said it would be even easier. The next lady showed me my assigned bed, took out a drawstring bag and had me spell my last name as she wrote it on the bag. She led me to a large restroom (this was all very familiar, been there, done that), gave me a pair of hospital socks with the ribbing on the bottom and a johnny shirt, and told me to take everything off, put my clothes in the bag, and put those on. I mentioned that they were going to be working on my arm. She reiterated to take everything off. I said, “You really want me to remove my underwear? You know they’re working on my arm?” She replied in the affirmative and said that I would be spending one hour in the Recovery Room following the procedure and should I need to use a bed pan, it would be hard for someone else to operate my underwear. I had not worn a bra anyway, and I wasn’t planning on using a bed pan so I kept the rest of my underwear on. I went out to my assigned bed. She took my vitals, wrote them on the sheet, said the bag with my belongings would be under the bed, and left. The next nurse came by. When she noted that my blood pressure was one-hundred-ninety-something over 102, she said we might not be doing this today. Fine by me, get the bag out from under the bed; and if I leave, I’m not coming back. No, I didn’t say those words out loud; but I certainly thought them loud. The nurse said she would call the doctor and see what he had to say. Someone had come by and placed a blanket on my bed. I ignored it. I am woman! Hear me roar! I don’t need a damn blanket. She called the doctor who said to start me on an IV with medication to lower the blood pressure, and the plan for removal was still in place. Another nurse came by. Someone put the blanket over me, and it was Heaven, nice and warm. What was I thinking to ignore this luxury of a heated blanket? As I continued to ask the first nurse questions, the second one directed my attention to her as she said she would be going into the procedure with me. I said she was my new best friend. I told her I was a big baby and very scared and nervous. She might have guessed that, given the blood pressure reading. She said she would give me something when we got inside. Now, she truly was my newest bestest friend ever. Here we go, rolling bed to the cubby I remember where they take care of ports. The technician in that room was all about business. Good cop, bad cop. I liked the other one who brought me down there better. They asked me to slide over onto the table. You know that table is about six inches wide; I wasn’t sure where the rest of me was supposed to go. I asked if I would have to lie completely flat as I was on the table. Bad cop said they would put a pillow under my knees so I could bend them. Good cop immediately slid a pillow under my head. Good cop said I’ll give you something now. Love her. The other one, all about business, was on the other side, preparing my arm. Good cop asked if I was feeling anything yet. When I responded no, she said she’d give me more. Love her more. After awhile, I became aware of bad cop working on my arm. It didn’t hurt (that’s what everyone had told me), but I certainly knew someone was doing something to my arm, like pulling on that area. Finally, we were done; and I was rolling to Recovery. It was mostly uninteresting there. The guy next to me (thankfully, I couldn’t see him) said he had to pee. They handed him something and said he’d have to use that or the bed pan. Fortunately, I didn’t need to, so after an hour I was getting dressed and ready to go. Krista and Kathi met me, and we went out to the car. In no time, we were eating a glorious breakfast at Hash House a go go. The paper they gave me at the hospital said to: follow all directions, if bathing the next day to cover the bandage so it wouldn’t get wet, and to take the bandage off the day after that. Two days later the bruising was extending from where the port had been (midway between my underarm and my elbow) all the way down to the crease opposite my elbow. I called the hospital. I got Good Cop on the phone. I could tell it was her because she had a recognizable accent. She asked if I had any pain? No. Any fever? No. Any swelling? No. Then, not to worry. I kept it covered with a band-aid for way longer than need be because I didn’t want to look at it. I don’t feel any different. I don’t feel as if it was a milestone in my cancer career. I just feel that the cardiologist scared me about having a foreign body in my arm; and now it’s gone, and that’s one less worry. Honestly, it’s hard to believe that all of this started for me in February, 2007; and here it is three years later. Upcoming is a mammogram and a visit with the oncologist. Hope all things medical continue to be uneventful. So, anyone with a port, don’t be a big baby like me. Talk to your oncologist, and do what he recommends; and know that it’s a piece of cake to walk in the park.