A Month With The Alien

The port hooked up to the IV

The port was installed a little over a month ago in a surgery that I don’t even remember happening.  I mean, I remember being there, in the room (I’m not THAT out of it).  I remember them telling me to move from one bed/table to another and I remember kneeling on the bed.  I don’t remember lying down, counting backwards, the warm blankie (WHY can’t I remember the warm blankie???), nothing.  Just having a dream and waking up and some nurse asking me some question.  I went back to sleep only to realize she wanted me to wake up so I COULD LEAVE.  After all, that was our marathon day of tests and procedures and lockdowns and just a plain ol’ party.  (Looking back I wonder if I just made all that up.  Nope, couldn’t possibly have made that up.)                                        

I expected the port surgery to be one little slice, insert, sewing session and we’re done.  Well, for the doctor it was.  Five days after the surgery I wanted to rip the thing out of my chest.  

I had my first chemo six days after the port was installed.  Ironically, that was when I came to terms with the Alien.  To access whatever hose the port has, they poked a hole in my skin.  My fine, taught, tender skin.  After all the port is almost half an inch tall, it’s under my skin, by my collar bone area.  So my skin really had to stretch to make room for the thing.  Poking that hole in my skin seemed to give it some breathing room and alleviate the stretch.

The port and scar

Who knew?  

After that, the thing hasn't really bothered me.  Most days I forget it’s even there.  Supposedly I’m not supposed to lift weights over ten pounds, but I can still hoist the case of bottled water from Costco.  I sleep flat on my stomach with no problem and my clothes don’t bother it.  

In other words I’ve stopped bitching about it. 

When have any sort of infusion, IV’s, blood draws, whatever, at least an hour before the appointment, I make sure I put a bunch of lidocane cream on it, followed by a square of press and seal saran wrap.  I sound like a plastic bag when I walk even though it’s a four by four inch square.  The press and seal sticks pretty well because I’ve put it on and then driven, shopped, walked all an hour or two before the appointment (gone to other appointments…).  When they go to access it and they come at me with a one inch needle (I never watch; but Jeff does), I can’t feel the needle pierce the skin AT ALL.  And as long as I taste metal after the nurse puts it in, we’re good.  If I taste no metal or feel a burn, Houston, there’s a problem and GET IT OUT. 

Here’s about as good as picture as I can get.  If you “pledge allegiance to the flag” with your left hand, it’s at the very tip of your middle finger.  You can see the raised bump and you can see three little raised dots.  Maybe those are like the runway lights so the nurse can see where she’s supposed to aim.  Go for the middle.  Please.  Don’t miss the middle.  Again.