First, let me start this off by saying that, based on the long list of bathing instructions I was provided, the description of the procedure, and how long everything would take when I was called to schedule the appointment, I would be home and working by 1 pm to 2 pm at the latest. I also thought I would make this post last night. Little did I know…
As I had been instructed, I ate no food after midnight the previous night and only enough liquids to take my morning pills. I hate this part, as having little to no liquid in the middle of the night and again in the morning makes it hard to access my veins. We arrived at the hospital at 9 am sharp, as I had been advised when the appointment was scheduled.
We went to admitting, and the admitting procedure was done quite quickly. The next thing I knew, we were headed upstairs to the outpatient waiting room. I felt like we barely sat down before they called me back to start getting me set up.
They don’t let my husband come back to sit with me until after everything is done, gowned, and the IV catheter placed. I was told to disrobe completely, but could leave my underwear on (not my tanks) and could tie the gown in the back. That done, I went onto the transport gurney. Next came time to find that vein… The nurse asked me if there were any tricks for starting the IV catheter, and I told her my spiel. We decided the first thing we needed was a hot pack to try and get my veins to stand out better. Off she went to get that. In the meantime, the second of the four nurses assigned to my bed number (58) came in, and we were going over my med list and the last time taken.
Nurse number one came back with a hot pack and a handheld near-infrared scanner. Oh My G-d! This device was so COOL! I’d read about them a few years ago and thought I needed to purchase one for myself and take it with me to any appointment that involved a needle stick for blood/vein access. Read about it here. We let the hot pack sit on my arm the last place I told them a nurse was able to get an IV catheter placed and waited a few minutes. Then the nurse pulled out the scanner, and away all three of us went, trying to find a good vein without any valves to hinder the catheter. I now had a visual of why it is so damn hard to place a catheter! My veins are TINY, deep, and branch off with very few places with enough length before a valve (evidently, I have TONS of them), or they branch off to other veins. I think the three of us scoured my arms and hands for about 40 minutes, trying to find a suitable vein that would cooperate, alternating the heat pack around, and trying to get a vein to the surface for easier access.
It was phenomenal how this worked. We first tried a good vein on my right forearm, but it was too deep to access easily. Chevy apologized for the stick that didn’t work, and I told her there was no problem. Once she knew it wasn’t going to go in without digging, she stopped and backed off. That I can handle with no issues, and the parasympathetic nervous system doesn’t care. Then we found a nice fat vein on my left arm at the elbow. I told them for over 10 years, I’ve treated my left arm as a Turnip – can’t get blood out of it. Oh, we would try. The catheter would go in and get a great blood return, but the minute anyone tried to get the blood to come out, nothing or just a little dribble and then done. Like I said – turnip.
We decided to go for it. Because it was an odd angle, I rearranged myself on the gurney to make it easier for Nickie to work with. The catheter went in great, and it gushed! They did need to take a small blood sample, and we got that and more. I guess leaving it alone for ten years made the difference.
Once we got my arm cleaned up and finished all the input for my chart, Nickie went to bring my husband back. My procedure was scheduled for 11 am. We talked and read or played on our phones until the head nurse for my surgical team and the surgeon came over to talk to us about the procedure and let us know it would just be a few more minutes while they finished getting the room ready. Dr. Beck showed us a port and explained how it would work. You can read about the type of port I have here. I was originally told at the oncologist’s office they access the superior vena cava, but this port actually accesses a jugular. There will be two incisions. In one very small spot, they access the artery, and then the main incision, about an inch or so long, is where they place the port and attach the catheter. This is done using a contrast dye and imaging several times during the procedure to ensure proper placement and no additional soft tissue damage than necessary in the area. So this is why the procedure is done in radiology.
I kissed my husband goodbye, and off I was taken to the surgical room. I knew that port placement was done under a local anesthetic – Lidocaine, in conjunction with a twilight drug. They also use an iodine-based contrast. I transferred from the gurney to the surgical table; why do they place you in a cotton gown and then cover everything with cotton blankets? Nothing slides! As I was trying to transfer myself with some dignity from one to the other without choking myself out or dragging blankets behind me. We all laughed at that. The surgeon uses electrical cauterization to help close wounds, so a grounding pad was stuck to my back before I lay down to center myself on the narrow table. Took a good 10 or more minutes to get everything set up before they started the actual prep for the procedure.
Dr. Beck had looked at my chest/shoulder area back in the staging/recovery area and said I needed a medium-sized catheter, but he wanted to double-check once they had me laid out, so we waited for him. They asked me what kind of music I wanted to listen to during the procedure. Classic Rock worked, and all the nurses and technicians in my surgical suite agreed that they should change Pandora to Classic Rock.
Dr. Beck came back in, re-looked at the area on my left side right below my clavicle, and confirmed that a medium-sized port/catheter was what I needed. Once that was confirmed, the correct size port was retrieved, and the serial number was recorded. They started the draping process; my left breast was taped down to mimic my skin and muscle placement as if I was standing, EKG was hooked up, cleaning of the field with betadine, and then the draping. They have that surgical tape they place over the surgery field now, and that was stuck to the towels draped around, and then a tent was draped over me, so I could not see what they were doing. I did have an area to my right where the head nurse would stand and keep watch over me and talk to me during the procedure.
It was finally time to start. Hit me with the good stuff. I thought I would probably sleep at this point, like I do during a colonoscopy. Nope, I remained bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, more so than I thought they wanted, so I was given a bit more. I don’t remember what drug they told me they use for this… After a third smaller “hit,” I finally noticed when I blinked I was much slower to re-open my eyes. Not tired, more…. lazy. Ahhhh, this is what they wanted. Relaaaaaaxed.
Dr. Beck then started administering the Lidocaine. It stings a bit, but not for long. We talked back and forth during the procedure, and then, somehow, we got to football. Dr. Beck is also a true blue 49ers fan! I told him I would high-five him, but he was a little busy. We all laughed at that. We discussed the current team, our hopes that eventually, we will stop being in a re-building year, how we both would love to fire the owner, etc. During a lull in conversation, the music stopped right after the last image was taken to ensure everything was in the correct place and no other soft tissue damage that might need to be corrected before securing the port and closing me up. Dr. Beck was the first one to notice. The head nurse had to go in and tell Pandora that we were still listening. As the next song came on, it started with a light chime, leading us to discuss Baby Rock, classics recorded on chimes as lullabies for infants. I had them all for the grandson. Dr. Beck still couldn’t tell what the song was that was playing, it was an extra long intro I hadn’t heard before, so it must of been a cover of AC/DC’s Hells Bells. I knew what it was, and my right hand was tapping out the rhythm as the signature bell toll kicked in. The head nurse looked at me and said, “She knows what it is, and I very lightly nodded my head. Took Dr. Beck another second before he realized what it was and came up with the song. Another laugh.
All done, I was taken back to staging/recovery and told at that point I had a mandatory 2-hour recovery time. I was asked if I wanted any food or drink and requested some juice. They were perfectly happy to let me just drink juice slowly. I know that sedatives have a tendency to heighten my motion sickness, so taking things slowly is always my best bet.
My blood pressure was high for me, 128/90. It was monitored over the two hours, and I noticed it was slowly dropping down to my normal range of 100-110/65-75. Nickie was the primary nurse now checking on me and she had my husband brought back. We sat there for the requisite two hours, again chatting and playing on our phones between Nickie’s checks. Then she finally said I could go home. I first had to pass a blood pressure test. One final test while I was reclined on the bed – 113/72; next standing up, 121/79, and then sitting on the side of the bed, 111/73. All good. I had all my admonitions of what to do and not do, and I was able to get dressed while my husband went and got the car to meet me at patient pick-up.
A couple of volunteers took me down to the patient loading zone, and away we went.
We had noticed that my betadine wash was still left behind all over my neck, chest, and left arm. Nice, I can’t shower, and I now have this lovely orange
“tan” on my upper body. And it wasn’t even… splotchy. Can’t pull that off in public… sponge bath awaited me once I was home.
Now, this is the point where I thought everything was fine. I’ve had normal conversations for over two hours now. My BP was coming along just fine, I could walk without issues, and turning didn’t make me dizzy. My boss had called earlier in the morning while we were waiting and asked if I could pull some data for him, sure no problem. I can get you that once I’m done here. I opened my laptop, logged in, and opened the systems I would need to start working on getting him the data. I texted my boss to confirm the data he wanted while I was pulling it up, and damn, that did not work right. What was I thinking? I’ve got the wrong stuff pulled up. I have email open. Now texting can be interesting sometimes, so I didn’t think anything of the fact that I had to retype/delete quite a bit while I was putting together that quick text. But email, now that was a whole different story! I reset my search criteria to start the data pull for the boss and then tried responding to some emails. I couldn’t type for the life of me! I had to pick each letter slowly to make a coherent word.
Just as my boss texted me back that the data could wait until Monday, I had the first set of data I needed to get him what he wanted. I dumped it into Excel and then proceeded to butcher it. What? Why did I do that? Undo, undo, undo. I tried that again, and oops, I deleted the wrong thing. Why do my fingers not work?
See the text from the boss and agree that this should probably wait until Monday. I can’t type for the life of me. I don’t understand. I’m coherent! I go back to the original email he sent me and respond to that to confirm my text message that I will try this again on Monday, evidently I am extra “relaxed” still. Took me seven tries to type the word relaxed correctly or even to the point that spell check understood what I was trying to type.
It was shortly after that when I hit the wall. All of a sudden, I needed a nap. Water, a small bite to eat, and a NAP. I fell asleep on our chaise lounge and slept there for about two hours. When I woke up, yeah, the Lidocaine had worn off. Ok, that kind of hurts. I can take Tylenol. Sleeping will be interesting, left side sore from the port placement and right boob hurts if too much pressure is placed on it. This is going to be a fun night.
Life is moving closer to Kickin’ Cancer’s Ass!
