Chemo Session #5: Port Trouble
"That looks really bruised and swollen!" Teresa's eyes were big as she surveyed my port site and called other nurses to get their opinions. They decided it was significant enough not to take blood from this morning, the first step of the infusion process, and wanted Dr. Patt's advice on whether to proceed with today's medicine. They instead drew blood from my arm and while the lab processed those samples, I waited with my friend Janet, enthralled with her tales of unearthing human skeletal remains from the 1600's on her most recent dig in York, England, until it was time to meet with Sarah Howard for my biweekly exam.
Worried that my port site may be infected, she definitely did not want to use it for today's administration, if it was to happen at all. When drawing blood earlier the nurse also excised the swollen area and sent it off to the lab, with results not available for up to 72 hours. Sarah thought that since my blood samples showed low white blood cell counts that infection was probably unlikely and decided we could go on with the Taxol treatment administered through my arm rather than my port. So back to the treatment room I went and after one unsuccessful needle jab (it went into the vein but landed on a valve) the second one took, and the process finally began, albeit slower than possible with the port. I hope Janet's hand feels ok today, because she kindly held mine during the needle administrations, which likely was only a minute or two, but felt like an eternity while I squeezed her hand with all my might to not think about the other arm and to not pass out. My favorite volunteer, Suzie, saw the distressed look on our faces and came over to distract us with this joke (found and copied from the internet):
On his 74th birthday, an old man received a gift certificate from his wife...
After being persuaded to go, he drove to the reservation, handed his ticket to the medicine man and wondered what he was in for. The old man handed a potion to him, and with a grip on his shoulder, warned, "This is a powerful medicine. You take only a teaspoon and then say '1-2-3'." When you do, you will become more manly than you have ever been in your life, and you can perform as long as you want."
The man was encouraged. As he walked away, he turned and asked, "How do I stop the medicine from working?"
"Your partner must say '1-2-3-4,'" the medicine man responded, "but when she does, the medicine will not work again until the next full moon."
The man was very eager to see if it worked so he went home, showered, shaved, took a spoonful of the medicine and then invited his wife to join him in the bedroom. When she came in, he quickly took off his clothes and said, "1-2-3!" Immediately, he was the manliest of men. His wife was excited and began throwing off her clothes as she asked, "What was the 1-2-3 for?"
And that, boys and girls, is why we should never end our sentences with a preposition, because we could end up with a dangling participle.
Suzie is a natural and told the joke with great voices and posturing and I was reminded, once again, of the power of comedy and laughter in counteracting negative circumstance. The rest of the session went smoothly and soon Janet was dropping me back over to Monkey and Willie's so I could have a quick lunch before heading out for another round of acupuncture, thank you Stephen!
Now it's Friday and I'm feeling fine, especially after using one of my gift sessions (THANK YOU, JOY!) for a massage with Kip Duvall. I'm going to put on one of Tammy's wigs and go meet my friend Cile for a catch up on this amazingly spring-like, winter day and intend on having an active weekend, soaking up as much of the sun as possible before the next weather change. I hope this day finds you happy, well and in a place of gratitude.
💪💪💪💪💪💪💪 -Tricia
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