Let me start with an apology. This blog is long overdue and I haven't done so well keeping up with everything. But blogging and sharing with all of you is very important to me as well as therapeutic so I want to get back on track. Believe it or not, there was another procedure after everything we've already discussed...the Port-A-Cath.
The Port-A-Cath
The port-a-cath is "a device used to draw blood and give treatments, including intravenous fluids, drugs, or blood transfusions. The port is placed under the skin, usually in the chest. It is attached to a catheter (a thin, flexible tube) that is guided (threaded) into a large vein above the right side of the heart called the superior vena cava. A port-a-cath may stay in place for many weeks or months. A needle is inserted through the skin into the port to draw blood or give fluids." That's the technical definition, in short, it's a really, really cool device that makes cancer patient's lives so much easier. The port is basically a button with a soft cover that can be penetrated by a special needle that gives direct access to my veins. I can get my chemo administered this way so that my veins don't get destroyed and I can get blood drawn from it too. This is huge for me because my veins are really hard to access even with the butterfuly needle and I bruise really easily from it. The port has 3 little bumps surrounding the middle of it so that when it is under my skin the nurses can touch it and feel where the middle is and make sure they are going into the right spot.
When I first was told about the port it was scary sounding and looking. Cancer was still new and everything cancer was very new. My team did a fantastic job telling me all about the port and prepping me for the surgery. It is considered a surgery to get the port placed in your chest, but it's not a major surgery and I didn't even have to go completely under. But I will say that with a new cancer diagnosis, going into any surgery or procedure is still pretty intimidating. I got to the hospital with my mom and Alex and both were allowed to stay with me until they wheeled me out to the surgery room. The first thing my nurse did was show me the actual port and let me feel it so I could feel the bumps and see the cord that would be placed in my chest. The cord runs from the port to a major vein close to my heart, it was nice to see exactly what would be in my body. Once we got all of that done I was ready to go back. I remember I had to fast because of the anestesia and I was REALLY craving BBQ sauce...random I know :) I remember being pushed back to the surgery room on the hospital bed and watching the lights over me, I felt sad. I remember feeling like I didn't want to be there, I remember feeling nervous and I remember dreading having a foreign object in my body. I knew it would be visible to other people and at the time I still had hair and could hide my cancer from the general public. I felt like the port would make me identifiable and I didn't want to be. Nevertheless, the port was a necessity. Once I got back to the surgery room I was put up on the table and prepped. I got some meds that made me numb but still awake and I could hear everything that was going on. That was a little weird because I couldn't really move or speak but I could hear. Once the doc got the port placed under my skin he used a camera to place the cord into my vein. The whole thing probably took an hour tops, really straight forward procedure but holy cow was I sore after! My mom and Alex were waiting for me in the recovery room, once I was there I was surprised by how difficult it was for me to sit up. The pain was pretty intense so I got an extra dose of pain meds and dozed off for a little bit. The nurse came back and told me I needed to eat a little something before I left but I was so weak that I couldn't feed myself.
It's very surreal to essentially regress. It's so weird to not be in control. It can actually be very dark. I've always been the type of person to get shit done. I'm the helper, the caregiver, the cheerleader, the organizer...not the recipient. Accepting help, asking for help, understanding that I needed help and leaning on the people around me should have and should be easy. But it's not, it's really hard to not feel like a burden. And one thing about my culture--we do not like to feel like a burden. You know what I've learned though? It's ok. It's ok to need help, it's ok to accept help and it actually makes the people that love me feel good to help me.
