This is my first real attempt at typing on a computer in a couple of days. I made the error of getting on it for a moment the day I got my port in and regretted that pretty quickly. Your fingers somehow are connected all of the way up into the ligaments in your neck and chest.

I always hear a port insertion is simple and quick recovery. I am not sure if I am just a weenie, or everyone just remembers it being easier than it was (or maybe most people don’t get chemo two days before).

My mom and I went in bright and EARLY Monday morning – I showered the night before and had my clean pair of operation room pajamas ready for me when I bounced got out of bed. I don’t want to have to wake up at 5:00 AM again for a long long long time. Thank you very much.

I look a heck of a lot better going in.

I look a heck of a lot better going in.

We got set up in the prep room and waited for an hour or so (heeeyyy, they make you come an hour before the doctor gets there?!). I was first surgery, so I guess I won that prize! We discussed with the anesthesiologist my ability to remember everything from my bone biopsy and begged that she sort of knock me out a bit better (they don’t actually use an anesthesiologist for the biopsies, it was a nurse, so I figured having an anesthesiologist we could get it figured out), since this was a procedure that they don’t actually put you under general anesthesia.

When I woke up my first response was “Yay! I don’t remember a thing!” Which would seem like a bad thing, but seriously, I don’t want to recollect them fishing a tube through my vein in my neck. Of course now I am like “oh boy, what did I say… did I do something stupid…” I haven’t seen any videos of me floating around on the internet yet, so I think I am good.

I have avoided getting a port, out of pure vanity. I am a thin woman, you can see it on me. It limits what I can wear… we go to the lake a lot… I probably wouldn’t recommend that route to someone going into early stage treatment having been through it, running chemo through my veins, blowing veins, worrying about whether or not we were going to get a vein and now going through metastatic treatment vanity has gone out the door (thus the fact that I suddenly don’t care as much about bald photos).

You can also see, we shaved my head. I have bald spots all over, but strangely enough, other parts are still growing (it is coming out a lot slower than last time). I was ready for it to come out – the amount in my hands in showers was at my limit. I was leaving trails wherever I went and when we shaved it was was left was pretty dismal. It will be interesting to see how long before it all goes. I am hoping I hang on to my eyebrows for a bit. Strangely enough, it is harder to lose your eyebrows and eyelashes than the hair on your head. At least it was for me.

When you have lymph nodes removed from one side and have extensive radiation to the lymph nodes in that area you are at risk for lymphedema. Which means my left arm is not allowed to have a needle poke it, a blood pressure cuff touch it, when I fly I wear a compression sleeve, when I work out I wear a compression sleeve – I do a lot of things to keep that arm from swelling up with lymphatic fluid. Which means I have one arm that you can draw blood from. I have been down to one vein in one arm for some time now.

It was time to do this port thing, we did it, and the only day we could schedule the darn thing was right after my chemo infusion. I figured it was on my worst chemo day already, so it wasn’t like I was ruining a perfectly good day, but I didn’t feel so hot coming out.

We are all lucky Mike isn’t the murdering type.

I think I look like how I feel. My mom had run off to get my medications at the pharmacy, so I took a selfie.

I think I look like how I feel. My mom had run off to get my medications at the pharmacy, so I took a selfie.


Author: Mandi

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