Later, port!

I should have written this post a month ago six weeks ago. But I’ve been stuck just standing here, so I couldn’t. I didn’t want to. At this point, it’s such old news, I debated whether or not I should even bother writing the post. Given that ALL of my other surgical experiences were marred by deplorable nursing care, I wanted to share this one as an example of a good surgical experience, just to prove that they do exist!

My last radiation treatment was on the 16th of September. (Major happy dance. Have I mentioned that radiation sucked?) On the 19th I saw the head of my oncology team, who said that I didn’t need my port any longer. (Another happy dance.) As much as I thought the port was amazing, it’s usefulness had long since ended, and it was now an annoyance.
• It was something that the toddler liked to play with and twiddle.
• It got in the way of using every single baby carrier I own (which is a lot!).
• It itched like crazy!
So, it should come as no surprise that I wanted that thing out post haste. I managed to snag an appointment with the surgeon a few days later, on the 24th, and his awesome scheduler got me scheduled for the port removal just a few days later on the 29th.

Normally, the port would be inserted and removed as an outpatient procedure, and it’s something that radiologists could do. Mine was inserted during the mastectomy surgery. The surgeon could have removed it outpatient, but he preferred to do it in the operating room just in case anything went bonkers and it would allow him to be more thorough. I’ve always appreciated his thoroughness, so I had no problems with going back to the OR.

Monday morning saw my friend and I heading to the hospital at 7am. This was a new experience for her, but old hat for me. I got checked in and was then whisked back to be prepared for surgery. They always ask you to leave a urine sample, but most of the techs don’t bother to tell you why. The tech I had that morning told me that she had to do a pregnancy test, which she proceeded to do right there in the room and she told me the results. (Win #1 for the hospital. I’m always a fan of patients being completely informed!) After that came the long list of questions, and then they had to start the IV. This turned out to be the only hiccup in the whole morning. The nurse found a nice vein on the top of my hand that was standing up and shouting, “Pick me! Pick me!” As it turned out, that vein was just evil and wanted to play a cruel joke on us all. Every time she got close to the vein, it would roll or scoot out of the way. She poked around for a good 2-3 minutes. When I say “poked around”, I don’t mean that she was taking the needle out and reinserting it. The needle was in, but she wiggled it around trying to get it into the vein. If you think that sounds really unpleasant, you are correct. To make it worse, I didn’t have any anesthetic on my hand since I’m allergic to Lidocaine. Ah, what fun! She eventually went to get another nurse, leaving the needle in my hand while she went. Part of me thinks that was unwise/unsafe. The other part thinks she did it to avoid another needlestick. Anyway, the second nurse gave it one go and said, “Nope, this one isn’t going to work.” They, of course, had to use a new needle for the next attempt. And naturally, they only had the big needles left. But really, after all of the poking around, getting stuck with a giant needle was no big deal.

My friend and I visited for a little while before the anesthesiologist came in. I gave her my usual, no Versed, no morphine, no lidocaine spiel, and she told me I wouldn’t be totally knocked out, just in what they called a twilight sleep. This meant no tubes or anything else in my mouth. I was given two meds for nausea since the twilight sleep drugs can make you feel pukey. One was given by mouth, and the other was a patch that they placed right behind my ear.

Just a few minutes later, the nurse came to take me to the operating room. This being my fourth trip to said room, I was totally relaxed and was able to take in all of the sights, sounds and smells. I made it a point to look around and actually notice all of the different equipment and such in the room. I scooted over to the ridiculously narrow operating table and they got me all hooked up and ready. The anesthetist came over and introduced herself, and then said, “You look familiar. I think I was with you during another surgery.” She seemed familiar to me too. Not just the way she sounded, but also her way of being and her diction. I said, “Yes, I think you did. I requested the use of the LMA?” At this, recognition came into her eyes and she said, “Yes! You are a singer and didn’t want any tubes near your cords!” I guess I must be one of the very few people who have used an LMA. Either that, or I caused enough of a stink that my image was etched into their memories!

Anyway, we chit-chatted while she got me ready and she complimented me on my short haircut, saying that a pixie-cut was really great on me. This struck me as sort of funny, given the fact that she’d only ever seen me with a surgical cap (think shower cap) on. I’m not really sure how she could tell what my hair was like or how she even got the full effect, given the cap. But hey, it was a compliment . . . I’ll take it.

The twilight sleep inducing meds were delivered through the IV. I have to say, this was the absolute worst part of the entire morning. Holy cow! I’m not even sure that the word painful is adequate to describe the sensation! Hands down, WAAAYY worse than childbirth! Sometimes meds hurt because the amount being pushed through the vein is almost more than the vein can handle, other times it’s something in the drug that causes the pain and other times the medication is thick and has to bully it’s way in. I’m not sure which one it was in this case, but it. was. awful! It started out cold. Then it felt like my vein was going to explode. When my entire hand became engulfed with this insane pain, I had to grit my teeth, wiggle and squeeze my toes, take deep breaths and pray that the sedative would take effect very, VERY soon.

I woke up as they were wheeling me back to my room. Fortunately, I didn’t wake up thinking about the excruciating pain my hand enduring at the administration of the twilight sleep-inducing meds! Given that I was in twilight sleep mode, they skipped the recovery room. It’s been a few weeks now, so I don’t exactly remember the chain of events. That, and I’m mixing up surgeries in my mind. I do know that I was allowed to go home fairly soon after getting back to the room. I felt pretty good, just super tired, which meant that I went straight to my bed upon arriving home and slept for several hours.

All in all, this was a vastly superior surgical experience. I don’t know if I had a better set of people, or if the fact that I had my notebook out to take notes of names and meds and everything spurred people to do better. Regardless, I have no real complaints this time. That’s kinda huge, right? Seems like I should congratulate the hospital on their good work, as a contrast to the lambasting they received as a result of the suboptimal care during previous procedures. But let’s be honest: it’s taken me 6 weeks to get this post written and posted. Somehow, I don’t think that congratulating the hospital is very high on the totem pole! 😉