The purpose of the port was to make things easier for me and my veins during the period in which I had to do chemotherapy. Infusions, as well as blood draws, were done through this port.
I remember the day I had it put in -- March 23, 2012. I had been told the Monday before this by my oncologist that I was going to have to do chemotherapy after all. We would start that the first week in April. In the meantime, his office would contact my surgeon to make arrangements to have the port inserted. As it so happened, I had an appointment that Monday afternoon with the surgeon. By the time of my appointment, he knew about my need for a port. He had on hand a sample of one to show me and to tell me what he was going to be doing -- that Friday morning.
I showed up at the hospital early on March 23. Although the insertion was to be an out-patient procedure, I was put under for the process. When I came to, I initially wanted to sleep more, until I realized that if I wanted to leave the hospital, I needed to wake up.
I was patched. The surgeon had a portable x-ray machine come to my room to get some images to be sure that everything looked good as far as the port was concerned.
My port had its first use the first week in April, when I went for blood work that was preceding my starting chemo. The nurse had a gadget that was a needle made for use with ports. She would insert that nasty needle into the "target" that was my port, a raised area that could easily be seen and felt. The needle had some small tubes attached to it. These were used to feed things into the port. Always we would begin with a saline solution. We knew things were good to go IF when we got a blood return.
Almost always, getting that blood return was not easy. I would then have to stretch out flatter than I was. If that did not work, I had to raise my arm. If that did not work, then I had to turn to my side. If that did not work, then I had to cough. It seemed I just might have to stand on my head . . . Eventually, though, we'd get it.
After I completed chemo, I still had my port. One reason was that I was needing to have two more CT scans, one the end of July and another the end of November, to be sure some spots seen on an earlier CT scan were not a possible problem. From the middle of July until the first part of December, I had to go get my port flushed every six weeks. That would be the usual pattern until the time came when I could get it taken out.
I was excited when the oncologist told me that I could get my port out. Arrangements were made with my surgeon, and the procedure was taken care of last Tuesday. Again, it was at the hospital, early. This time, though, I just had a local anesthetic. I knew what was happening the entire time.
The gross part was when Dr. Bang was tugging at the port to free it. He would also cut away the tissue that had grown around the port. I heard him scraping it, also. UGH! Finally, it was free and out. Pressure was put on my vein, up by my clavicle, to stop the bleeding where the tube from the port had been inserted in March. I was patched up. DONE!
I have said to several of my friends that I look at this past year as a time when I have been engaged in a battle. I am battling a disease. Getting my port out was an indication to me that for now, I am winning that battle.To God be the glory.
No comments:
Post a Comment