Port Authority

 I am now the owner of a brand new port, which means chemo will start next Wednesday.

My surgery went amazingly well.  I'm so thankful for all the positive thoughts and prayers on my behalf and for those in the medical team working with me.  The day started early, as I now wake up rested, without my alarm, ready to go.  {Xanax just may be turning me in a morning person!}  We were at the hospital at 8 to register and pay---they actually tried to force us to pay the entire deductible and then some, as if in the last 14 days of procedures, starting with the mammogram, we'd really only put $4.20 toward our deductible, as the insurance was reporting to date.  Nice try, hospital money man.  Nice try.

After that bit of morning humor, we were led to the 2nd floor--Stephen into the waiting room and I into my hospital room.  I changed into my awesome purple "bair paws" hospital gown, which could be attached to a warmer.  It was fantastic, especially since I was freezing!  {96.1 temp, HR 62 BP 108/70} Then came the *fun part,* the IV.  I HATE IV's, simply because nurses have NEVER been able to get them in the first time.  There is always so much pain from the digging and moving and re sticking.  It's pretty much always the worst part of the entire procedure--all 3 of my boys' births, my D&C, the eye surgery I can remember as an adult.  My veins are tricky because they look great, but must be a bit crooked or roll.  Anyway, your prayers worked from the start because my nurse was an IV expert--first time, no digging, barely felt it.  MIRACLE!

After all the prep stuff, Stephen got to join me in my room.  Dr. Pollack greeted us and let us know that Dr. Naqvi had ordered axillary lymph node needle aspiration {a lymph node biospy} to the list of procedures today.  So, I'd probably be sore on both sides.

My CRNA came to greet us, "Hi, I'm Daniel, CRNA."  "Stephen Cooper, CRNA."  They shared stories and peeps.  {A friend had called the hospital and requested that I had the best.  It's good to have connections!}

Not long after that, it was time to roll down to the OR!  I'm quite fond of anesthesia.  Not only does it provide my husband a job he loves and a great living, but it makes surgeries amazing!  It's nice to not remember the pain or the trauma.  I only remember rolling into the OR, moving over to the bed, Dr. Pollack holding my hand, leaning close to my head to pray with me--I can't even remember the words, just the peaceful feeling--and that's it.

The next thing I can remember is being in the PACU, hearing, "Melodee?  Melodee, it's time to wake up."  I also remember thinking in the back of my head that I really wanted to take a longer nap!  But, I woke up, Stephen was there, I ate some ice chips and chatted, and not too much after that was back in my hospital room.  I was starving and ate some graham crackers and downed 3 glasses of cranberry juice.  Since that went so well, they were able to get me unhooked, remove the IV, I could change into my clothes, and we were outta there by noon!  My only instructions were to not lift anything over 10 lbs. for 14 days, to not shower for 24 hours, and to not bathe, swim, or jacuzzi for 14 days. 

How fun it was to be greeted with notes, pictures, and hearts all over the house.  And some beautiful flowers from my church sisters!  The boys and Claire were busy while I was gone making me a welcome home display.  How fun!  {My mom was supposed to be here, but the stupid Utah weather held her captive, shutting down the entire airport from freezing rain and making it that the earliest she could arrive was yesterday evening, after struggling through crazy amounts of connections.  Forget that.  She's heading here this morning on a direct flight.  Hopefully. Thankfully, Jordan and Julia had driven in for the day on Thursday so Jordan could eat lunch with Stephen, and they were willing to stay overnight and be here with the boys during my surgery.}
        

 

 Here's some pictures the kids drew for me.  I love that Kyle is starting to write.  So sweet!

Here's Kyle's latest family portrait.  I love the hats we're all wearing, and does anyone notice that Dad is a different color that the rest of his family?  Kyle told me "Daddy's a poop scoop, so I drew him green, like a poop scoop."

I rested a bit while the kids took naps.  Stephen and Jordan went grocery shopping.  Steve, Timee, Liz, and McKinley came over for a visit.  I got to talk to a few neighbors.  A neighbor brought over some dinner, and we were ALL ready for bed!

I felt pretty good, was able to do a few things---some laundry, tidy up, etc., but I made sure to not lift anything heavy.  This is going to be the hardest post-surgery instruction to follow.  It's natural instinct to pick up my kids, to help them down from somewhere, to grab a laundry basket.  I have to constantly remind myself to NOT do those things.

There was soreness, discomfort, and a little pain on the port side, to be expected.

For those interested, here's what the port looks like:
 

   

It's a small device--a triangular, quarter-sized shape--sealed with a silicone top, called a septum.  It's placed under the skin on my right chest and contains a catheter that is placed inside my vena cava, a large central vein that takes blood to my heart.  This way the chemo can have the best direct access to my bloodstream, I don't have to be stuck every week with IVs, and my veins won't be destroyed from all the medicine about to be pumped throughout my body.

When it's time for chemo, a special needle will be put into the septum to create access for the drugs, as shown here:

 I've been told that my port is "my new best friend."   We'll see how this relationship goes, but I'm pretty sure I'm just going to be using her for a few months, will just want to end it, being ready to break up about this time next year, never looking back.


So, here's the insertion point, a bit of bruising from the surgery, and the bump under my skin from where the device is placed. 

I'm now pretty much my own "port authority."