Now it Starts: Port Surgery

Am I ready?

Yes.  No.  I don’t know anymore.  Well, either way, I’m here at my workplace.  It’s 6:15am.  I’m starting the process by registering at admitting, then off I go to radiology for a port placement.  What’s that you ask?  The port is a small chamber placed in my chest with a small tube that goes around my collarbone, into my vein, and stops at the entrance of my heart.  Supposedly, this is for the purpose of quick easy access for chemotherapy, blood draws, etc.  *shrug*  Each step of the way, I have the option of saying “stop.”  Will I do so?  Probably not.

I like to push the limits of what’s considered “normal.”  In my head, choosing local anesthesia is scary because I’ll be awake for the procedure, but I’m curious.  I _like_ to know what’s going on around me.  I like the concept that I can jump off the surgery table right after the procedure and go to work right away.  I hate taking medications and I really dislike not having control.  Local anesthesia it will be!  This way, I also don’t have to go hungry.  This point is very important.  *wide grin*  Hey, don’t laugh!  For me, I really like to eat and I’m never comfortable going hungry. 

Sorry, I’m rambling.  Guess my nervousness is showing.  I’m in full control, but to lay on a table and let someone I don’t know cut into my skin… now that doesn’t seem sane to me.  *sigh*

I can feel my heart pounding.  My breath quickens as I anticipate the near future.   

Stop.   

Breathe in.  Hold.  

Breathe out.  Pause.   

Repeat. 

God, my life is in your hands.  Whatever happens, I leave to you.  If you choose to stop the placement of this port, please feel free to go ahead.  If you want to stop the infusion of chemotherapy meds, even at the last moment, I’d welcome that too! 

Father God, I know you have a plan for my life.  The reason I’m going through with this chemotherapy thing isn’t because I believe that it will cure me, but because I want to live the life you’ve set for me so that you will shine.  I don’t care if everything falls apart… well, I do care, but at the same time, you are more important than my life and so I want to choose a life that puts you on display. 

Father God, to your will, so be it.  My life, my future, my dreams are yours.  Please use me so that I can see more of you.

*prick*  Ah, in goes the IV.  *shrug*  I can feel the nurse fiddling with the line; I've seen this so many times already… anything else of interest to look at?  Glancing around, I feel a rushing ache in the upper back of my throat.  Alcohol?  Whipping my head around, I catch a glimpse of an open alcohol pad used to wipe the syringe just before connecting it to my IV line.  Yup, that was alcohol alright.  Good thing I planned ahead and took Benadryl first thing this morning.  Doesn't matter how many times I warn people, my alcohol allergy is so unusual that almost all cleaning processes use it in hospital settings.

Trickles of cold liquid run down my left neck, into my armpits, down my sides.  What's going on now?  Rolling my head to the left, I watch as a staff member runs a cold swab dripping with betadine to circle my left chest, once, twice, three times over. Ewwww, this feels gross!  The lady directs me to turn my head to the right and keep it there.  Cold and wet, the substance is used to coat my neck as well.  *shudder*  Cold fluid through the IV line and cold sticky fluid.... Ahhh, gotta stop thinking about the cold.  I just need to ignore the discomfort.  I hate being cold!  What else can I focus on?

"Close your eyes."

Huh?

Next thing I know, a large blue sterile sheet presses against my face.  Some paper jabs near my eye.  A rustle of paper, then I feel the sticky edges of the drape being pressed onto my left chest.  Cold, sticky, foam-padded… what?  Oh, the person is applying the drape, pulling it off my skin, then reapplying it; this process is repeated many times until the person decides the positioning is just right.  Ummm, normally not so bad when someone's sedated, but definitely not the type of care catered to someone who's awake and alert.   Does anyone realize how cold and how sticky and how painful just the set-up process can be?  Probably not.  I'm not even gonna bother focusing on the what it's going to be like when they remove the tape used to stretch out my skin.  *deep sigh*  Medical practices are practical, not comfortable.

I can't see anything but blue. Suddenly, bright light pours into my eyes as the drape is lifted off my face and tied up.  Ahhh, I can see the wall again.  Is that a slight reflection of the room against plastic panels?  Yup, I can see outlines of people moving around.  Cool!   Too bad I can't see the procedure.  *sniffle*

"This is the not fun part okay?  It's going to feel like you're getting pinched like this."  *sharp pinch*

Thanks for the warning… I think?

I feel the needle stab deep past my skin.  Lidocaine is injected.  The needle gets partially pulled back and stabbed in at different angles.  I guess it's getting numb... Somehow this round, I can still feel all the places the needle is inserted... I don't remember that being the case last time.  *shrug*  I'm not going to give them any reason to regret letting me stay awake!

A nurse comes up with her hands outstretched, "Do you want to hold my hand?"

"It's okay.  I'm fine.  Thanks."  I'm too busy clenching my right hand in a fist and keeping my left side relaxed.  Honestly,  I don't think I can relax enough to grab her hand. 

"Okay, now you should only feel some pressure.  No pain."

I feel the scalpel run across my chest.  Once.  Twice.  "Ummmmm, I can feel the scalpel."

"Really?  I gave you enough lidocaine that you shouldn’t feel this.  Okay, I'll inject some more."

Again, the sharp pinch as the needle dives deep into my tissue.  Still, I can feel the pressure of the fluid being injected into my body.  Once.  Twice.  Three times. I can feel the excess liquid trickling down the side of my chest.

"Okay, that should be enough to numb the area."

Again, I feel the scalpel run across my left chest.  This time, I decide not to say anything.  I can tolerate pain.  As the surgeon cuts deeper, I stop being able to feel the sharp edges of the scalpel.  Maybe the local anesthetic is finally working?  Whatever, it's better for me to stay quiet than to make comments.  If they really wanted to know how effective their treatments are on an alert person, they'd ask.

*stab* Ouch!  This is the part I hate most!!!  Strong pressure.  Choking sensation.  A hard lump-in-my-throat type feel.  Lovely.  A small guide wire followed by a flexible tube is probably being inserted into my vein with the end near my heart.

*yank*  Huh?  My whole body is being dragged up and down almost to the point where I'm starting to shift on the table top. What's going on?

"I need to break through the old scar tissue from your prior port’s scar to create a pocket for this new port."

Finally, all the rough motions settle down.  Yes, I'm almost done!  I can clearly feel the needle jabbing into my skin, the thread sliding with some resistance through my tissue.  Almost there!  My skin gets pinched closed while a gel-like material is applied... I think this must be the skin glue.  Even if I can't see, I can feel the small foam-like tip dabbing against my skin.  Steri-strip for extra protection, 2x2 gauze, large tegaderm.

Freedom! 

I'm so happy the procedure is done that when given permission to climb off the table, I skip the small step and hop down.  Almost prancing now that the ordeal is done, I look forward to changing clothes and returning to work!  YAY!

Father God, thank you for helping me make it through the procedure!  For me, the unknown can be scarier than pain; however, whatever happens, Lord, I know you are in complete control so I really have nothing to worry about.  Discomfort, pain... All that's temporary.  But you, oh Lord, are eternal.  Even if things go wrong, I believe that if you absolutely didn't want it to happen, it won't.  Lord, with you always by my side, I can be completely nonchalant.  I can push the limits knowing you'll warn me when I go too far.  Father God, in your presence, I have no deep worries.  Yes I am unsure of my future, but I am completely confident that you will step-in when I can't deal with things anymore.  In the meantime, I'll enjoy what I have and what I can still do.  I am self-assured, not in my abilities nor in my own power, but in yours.  I know that you are God eternal, promise-keeper, true to character and love me so much I get spoiled.  In you, regardless of circumstances, I have peace, joy and hope unending.

Thank you, God, for redeeming and using the bad stuff in my life for your glory.  Thank you that I can look forward because of your steadfastness so that I don't get trapped in the darkness of my upcoming chemotherapy.   

Trials.  Unknown future.  Test subject.  Lord, to you, I am none of these things.  In you, the fact I get to dwell in your presence is a given.  I am content.

Lord God, Jesus, Holy Spirit... Give me the strength to fix my eyes only on you.  Help me see the end-goal and not the temporary struggles of this life.  May my life, my choices, my words, my attitude be what it is because I have you carrying me forward.  Continue to bless me so I can see you in action!  Keep my heart from straying away from you.  In this lifetime, show me that just having you is truly enough.

In Jesus' name I pray, amen.

Please pray for my physical safety, strength, wisdom with managing symptoms, a good attitude, stability in my body...  stuff like that.  If God wills it, I start my clinical trial of chemotherapy tomorrow morning on May 13, 2015.

For following my blog, for reading my life story, for your wholehearted support, for your love and prayers... I know I am beyond blessed to have you walking with me through this life.  *Super big hug*  Thank you!  (^o^)/