Today we went to VGH (Victoria General Hospital) to be a guinea pig for the med students working at the Island Medical Program. It was pretty cool, actually. I mean, if there was no exam part necessary I could have enjoyed it a lot more, but...
There are only three medical students to a "guinea pig" - yah, thats how small our med program is! A grad class could be under 30 people! We went through history (when did you get sick, progression of symptoms...yadayadayada) with a special focus of 'mental status'. I feel a little crazy just saying those words! They asked a bunch of weird questions, to test different parts of my memory. It was alright, only I felt a little stupid when I couldn't answer the questions. They also did a physical exam on me, which was, like, my leastest favorite thing ever.
I'm not sure if you have ever had a med student examining you, but let me tell you, count your lucky stars if you don't get one who is vicious with the hammer. I had this one med student who took the words 'hammer' a little too seriously for a round rubber-edged disc on a bendy stick, and proceeded to use it as such.
But not today. Today they were all pretty decent with a hammer, and relatively good aim (ha). No bruises at any rate, so job well done! They also test muscle tone and the "poky-vs-soft" test (no idea what its called...but you get the idea). Anyways, I am so unbelievable zonked after that. I'm ready to hibernate!
Friday, February 05, 2010
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Evenin'
You know, life is very exciting when you do nothing. When there is nothing, I find, that I suddenly notice so much more about the so-called 'nothing' than before. A ceiling has so many little dots, blimp and swirls. The way a chair always leans a little to one side, like its tired of being squished. The whoosh of an air vent, and the way dust clings to it in twisting strands. The sound of a room breathing; the cracks and creaks of it, like the sterile stomach of a living beast. A tense smell. The tang of MicroScan. Dust in the corners of a room, hiding from the broad sweeps of a plastic broom. Such things are nothing when you have something to do, but I find are actually quite fascinating when you are just waiting.
The stupid MePore (sp?) - a kind of clear dressing - doesn't stick to my skin. In fact, I believe that it repels my skin with astonishing force. Why, only a day after it was put on, it was peeling up away from my skin, inching itself to the outer edges of the bandage and freedom. Of course this is all well and good for it, but rather unfortunate for the 1/2 needle in my port. It loves the sickening sharpness of CholoraPrep and nitrile gloves. Even taping all of the sides down more securely didn't keep the dressing on, so a few days later we were back in ER, getting it changed again! How annoying!!! Anyway, tonight it wasn't too bad, and we were out of there in like, 2 hours, which isn't bad. Hell, you can wait that long in a doctors office, reading bad, out-of-date magazines no one cares about.
I am really really zonked today. Everything is infinitely worse when you are tired. I fainted and fell out of my chair on the way to the bathroom, and fell in a way that my chest hit the ground, my bodyweight pushing the needle and port deeper into me. A little uncomfortable, to say the least. Haahaa. It's kinda throbbing, deep down inside, in a way I don't like. It isn't helped by the cold IV ball I am currently infusing with.
Oh well. At least in a few days it will be out for a little longer. A respite! At last, a shower!
The stupid MePore (sp?) - a kind of clear dressing - doesn't stick to my skin. In fact, I believe that it repels my skin with astonishing force. Why, only a day after it was put on, it was peeling up away from my skin, inching itself to the outer edges of the bandage and freedom. Of course this is all well and good for it, but rather unfortunate for the 1/2 needle in my port. It loves the sickening sharpness of CholoraPrep and nitrile gloves. Even taping all of the sides down more securely didn't keep the dressing on, so a few days later we were back in ER, getting it changed again! How annoying!!! Anyway, tonight it wasn't too bad, and we were out of there in like, 2 hours, which isn't bad. Hell, you can wait that long in a doctors office, reading bad, out-of-date magazines no one cares about.
I am really really zonked today. Everything is infinitely worse when you are tired. I fainted and fell out of my chair on the way to the bathroom, and fell in a way that my chest hit the ground, my bodyweight pushing the needle and port deeper into me. A little uncomfortable, to say the least. Haahaa. It's kinda throbbing, deep down inside, in a way I don't like. It isn't helped by the cold IV ball I am currently infusing with.
Oh well. At least in a few days it will be out for a little longer. A respite! At last, a shower!
“We can't solve problems by using the same kind of thinking we used when we created them.”
~ Albert Einstein
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Education, Liberation
Today was a very interesting day. I realized just how far I am willing to go in order to make the changes needed.
The IMP (Island Medical Program) has a section involving hands-on experience with real patients. You don't have to be sick to help, they just need a really body to answer questions and help them to understand how to do certain things, like checking reflexes and balance and such.
There were three very nice students, and a teacher in our session. We first talked with them about my medical history, drugs I'm taking etc, but without revealing my diagnosis. It was kinda fun. If 3 second year medical students could figure out what was wrong with me, the CDC and IDSA better be doing some serious soul searching.
I was surprised when the teacher asked me if I'd ever noticed a tick bite. No, I was floored that she even asked that. Wow, where were you a year ago? But the topics moved on shortly after.
Anyways, then they got to do some tests that involved touching :(. Not quite as fun lol. They were the usual tests, with a focus on coordination and gait. Muscle strength (ex: I'm going to pull really hard on your arm and you are going to 'resist' me- a disadvantage, predetermined outcome of an arm wrestle. Or: Lift your wrists while I press down on them...You get the drift), and the muscle tone test (not sure if its called that), when they shake your arm in a zillion direction, obviously feeling something more informative than I am.
Okay. So after all that, the people were little very interested in my diagnosis, and when they discovered that Lyme Disease was the cause, I could tell they were very shocked, because, of course, the information that Lyme Disease causes vague arthritis was basically what they had been told so far. They were new med students, so the information would be 'fresh'. I was shocked and pleased by their reaction, their indignation. I felt like I was really getting somewhere in the education. Perhaps it is too late for the doctors in practice, but the med students have yet to be moulded into their full length white coats yet.
I am doing this, twice a week, a few weeks a month. That is quite a few med student. I urge any other Lyme victims, who are willing or able, to investigate programs that their local universities have for training med students. We could be the difference.
The IMP (Island Medical Program) has a section involving hands-on experience with real patients. You don't have to be sick to help, they just need a really body to answer questions and help them to understand how to do certain things, like checking reflexes and balance and such.
There were three very nice students, and a teacher in our session. We first talked with them about my medical history, drugs I'm taking etc, but without revealing my diagnosis. It was kinda fun. If 3 second year medical students could figure out what was wrong with me, the CDC and IDSA better be doing some serious soul searching.
I was surprised when the teacher asked me if I'd ever noticed a tick bite. No, I was floored that she even asked that. Wow, where were you a year ago? But the topics moved on shortly after.
Anyways, then they got to do some tests that involved touching :(. Not quite as fun lol. They were the usual tests, with a focus on coordination and gait. Muscle strength (ex: I'm going to pull really hard on your arm and you are going to 'resist' me- a disadvantage, predetermined outcome of an arm wrestle. Or: Lift your wrists while I press down on them...You get the drift), and the muscle tone test (not sure if its called that), when they shake your arm in a zillion direction, obviously feeling something more informative than I am.
Okay. So after all that, the people were little very interested in my diagnosis, and when they discovered that Lyme Disease was the cause, I could tell they were very shocked, because, of course, the information that Lyme Disease causes vague arthritis was basically what they had been told so far. They were new med students, so the information would be 'fresh'. I was shocked and pleased by their reaction, their indignation. I felt like I was really getting somewhere in the education. Perhaps it is too late for the doctors in practice, but the med students have yet to be moulded into their full length white coats yet.
I am doing this, twice a week, a few weeks a month. That is quite a few med student. I urge any other Lyme victims, who are willing or able, to investigate programs that their local universities have for training med students. We could be the difference.
Thursday, January 14, 2010
ER
AH! It seems like we're there way to often, but so is the way.
I feel like a waste of time and resources. They look at us funny when we say that we are at ER to get a Huber needle changed. They are like, well dummies, why don't you just ask your doctor...do it as an outpatient thing?? Ah. Good point. Interesting question. Well of COURSE we would. There is, however, a slight snag.
What doctor? If you can believe it, no doctor wants to take me on, to help me, because doing so would seriously jeopardize their medical licence. I know its insane, but this is what we're facing.
This week we were lucky; only 2 hours in ER and no parking tickets. Why that's barely a few chapters of an audiobook!
It isn't exactly made for comfort, the ER. It is very exhausting; the bright lights, loud noises, awkward positions etc.
I cannot stress enough how long this procedure takes; minutes. And few of them. Pull the needle out, stick it back it. Tada. It is so ridiculous.
Today, I even made it to afternoon choir practice, which was pretty awesome! It was amazing to see everyone, and sing. We're singing some pretty sweet songs...
I feel like a waste of time and resources. They look at us funny when we say that we are at ER to get a Huber needle changed. They are like, well dummies, why don't you just ask your doctor...do it as an outpatient thing?? Ah. Good point. Interesting question. Well of COURSE we would. There is, however, a slight snag.
What doctor? If you can believe it, no doctor wants to take me on, to help me, because doing so would seriously jeopardize their medical licence. I know its insane, but this is what we're facing.
This week we were lucky; only 2 hours in ER and no parking tickets. Why that's barely a few chapters of an audiobook!
It isn't exactly made for comfort, the ER. It is very exhausting; the bright lights, loud noises, awkward positions etc.
I cannot stress enough how long this procedure takes; minutes. And few of them. Pull the needle out, stick it back it. Tada. It is so ridiculous.
Today, I even made it to afternoon choir practice, which was pretty awesome! It was amazing to see everyone, and sing. We're singing some pretty sweet songs...
Friday, January 08, 2010
Things that Supervened
A new year! Golly!
I wish I could tell you I had an epiphany, a moment of clear brightness, where all my problems were swept away in a neat, tight, fit-for-Hollywood ending, but alas, that is why I mentioned them in the context of being a movie ending. That sort of thing really only happens in movies.
No, to be honest, life snails forward as always. And I don't begrudge that. If wellness came in spurts, in quick little pinches, all your hard work would feel like it actually added up to something quantifiable in short terms. I like being able to look back over the rocky, mountains of the past and be able to say 'see? just there? it happened, it changed. now, why didn't I see that...?' if that makes any sense at all. I don't know. I'm having problems making sense a lot.
We went to the ER the other day to get my port needle changed. Now for those of you who aren't too clear on what a port is, or why we would have to go to the ER to get it changed, I am with you! The procedure take a grand total of about 5 minutes (including getting undress and dressed and small talk). We waited about 4 hours in the chemically-clean smelling ER for a doctor to OK the procedure, which is just done by an IV nurse. It is all very confusing.
I am beginning to feel the beginning of something a lot more like rational anger growing inside of me. Can you believe how ridiculous this is? How has my healthcare plan been terminated by the government? Why have Lyme patients been blacklisted and forced out the country like a 'communist'. Why are we turned away like Lepers to desolate islands?
With all the knowledge, it seems appallingly bold as brass of them (ie; the head jefe's- no body knows exactly who they are though...its a nest of nastiness to be sure.) to continentally stick by their stubborn 'the-earth-is-flat' speeches, even after Aristotle, Galileo, Magellan brought the truth to light.
It is shameful.
I hope that thought of all the sickness they have profiteered from keep them up at night.
I wish I could tell you I had an epiphany, a moment of clear brightness, where all my problems were swept away in a neat, tight, fit-for-Hollywood ending, but alas, that is why I mentioned them in the context of being a movie ending. That sort of thing really only happens in movies.
No, to be honest, life snails forward as always. And I don't begrudge that. If wellness came in spurts, in quick little pinches, all your hard work would feel like it actually added up to something quantifiable in short terms. I like being able to look back over the rocky, mountains of the past and be able to say 'see? just there? it happened, it changed. now, why didn't I see that...?' if that makes any sense at all. I don't know. I'm having problems making sense a lot.
We went to the ER the other day to get my port needle changed. Now for those of you who aren't too clear on what a port is, or why we would have to go to the ER to get it changed, I am with you! The procedure take a grand total of about 5 minutes (including getting undress and dressed and small talk). We waited about 4 hours in the chemically-clean smelling ER for a doctor to OK the procedure, which is just done by an IV nurse. It is all very confusing.
I am beginning to feel the beginning of something a lot more like rational anger growing inside of me. Can you believe how ridiculous this is? How has my healthcare plan been terminated by the government? Why have Lyme patients been blacklisted and forced out the country like a 'communist'. Why are we turned away like Lepers to desolate islands?
With all the knowledge, it seems appallingly bold as brass of them (ie; the head jefe's- no body knows exactly who they are though...its a nest of nastiness to be sure.) to continentally stick by their stubborn 'the-earth-is-flat' speeches, even after Aristotle, Galileo, Magellan brought the truth to light.
It is shameful.
I hope that thought of all the sickness they have profiteered from keep them up at night.
“There is no crueler tyranny than that which is perpetuated under the shield of law and in the name of justice.”
~Charles de Montesquieu
Thursday, December 31, 2009
A Year.
31 556 926 Seconds. 525 986 Minutes. 8 766 Hours. 52 Weeks. 12 Months. 1 Year.
What? Is it that time again already? Have we really already travelled around the sun? Has it really been so long?
It sounds like a hell of a long time on paper. All those second...how can I fill them? All those week...what will happen? In January, my birthday feels forever away!
Despite what they say, I know time is much quicker than the clock would have you believe. It is prejudice.Math classes drag by, waiting for doctors seems like an age, but happiness flies by and before you know it, it has passes smoothly into a fond memory.
"When you are courting a nice girl an hour seems like a second. When you sit on a red-hot cinder second feels like an hour. That's relativity." ~Albert EinsteinHow can I reflect on a year? A blank slate, a bowl used to being filled with memories that is so shockingly empty. What can I but what other people have said? That I am progressing, but that I am, if you compare it in larger chunks. That sounds wonderful on paper, but my bones would have to strongly disagree.
It is an hour before the big 2010. When I was in grade 3, I first calculated when I would graduate, and the magic number 2010 and the phrase "Class of '10" has always put a smile on my face and filled me with the possibility of possibilities. It has become more to me now, it has become a mantra, and I try to focus on the knowledge that I will graduate this June. Hope.
My reflections on the year? Undoubtably good, undoubtably bad in places. I have grown up and grown wiser (hopefully). I have taken to heart the advise about learning lessons the hard way.
I await the New Year with great anticipation...an hour! and Hour!
I wish you all a very Happy New Year, and hopefully a happier and healthier year of next.
Good luck, and Good night.
Friday, December 25, 2009
I Heard the Bells...
Happy Christmas everyone!!
Christmas was nice, the quiet kind, but in a way that was rather comforting. We didn't do anything special, but of course the dinner was magnificent! All of my favourites (stuffing or dressing, depending where you live ;P) and of course homemade cranberry sauce!!
I felt just awful during the day. It seems that whenever the chance arrives that there could be a good day, the Lyme stamps it out quite effectively. It is cruel, although I know the bacteria doesn't really check a calendar.
I did, however have a fun time playing some classic christmas songs from my monster christmas book, which I absolutely love! All those familiar songs are easy enough to play too, so there isn't much thinking involved. There is something wonderful about traditions; they wrap you up in a wonderful warmth and fill you with a feeling of belonging.
Some of the best presents I've ever received, however, aren't the kind that came in beautiful boxes and bows under a tree. The most cherished gift I have ever received are intangible. Is there anything quite as wonderful or perfect as love? If there is anything more important or beloved than a friendship, what is it? Could there be anything more precious than compassion, more blessed than a smile, more valued than a kind word? Is there anything that could be more special than this, all, every, moment?
But of course, none there are.
Christmas was nice, the quiet kind, but in a way that was rather comforting. We didn't do anything special, but of course the dinner was magnificent! All of my favourites (stuffing or dressing, depending where you live ;P) and of course homemade cranberry sauce!!
I felt just awful during the day. It seems that whenever the chance arrives that there could be a good day, the Lyme stamps it out quite effectively. It is cruel, although I know the bacteria doesn't really check a calendar.
I did, however have a fun time playing some classic christmas songs from my monster christmas book, which I absolutely love! All those familiar songs are easy enough to play too, so there isn't much thinking involved. There is something wonderful about traditions; they wrap you up in a wonderful warmth and fill you with a feeling of belonging.
Some of the best presents I've ever received, however, aren't the kind that came in beautiful boxes and bows under a tree. The most cherished gift I have ever received are intangible. Is there anything quite as wonderful or perfect as love? If there is anything more important or beloved than a friendship, what is it? Could there be anything more precious than compassion, more blessed than a smile, more valued than a kind word? Is there anything that could be more special than this, all, every, moment?
But of course, none there are.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Pincushions
Yesterday was not one of those days that, if I could remember it, I would look back with a warm/fuzzy feeling in my stomach. But I believe my patience and display of stoic behaviour (and diplomacy) could be looked back on fondly someday. When I learn how to change the damn needle myself, I will be able to laugh at this, certainly!
The day started out as one generally does, with sun rise over the cotton ball sky and all that sort of thing. General, when a smiling nurse enters the building while one is eating breakfast, quite frankly, one completely looses their appetite and thinks "what a jolly good way to start the day", but perhaps with a few more choice words.
The lady was very nice. A golf clap for being nice, definitely, and 2 gold stars for trying. I am afraid that is the end of the accolades.
I recognize that a 'Huber' needle is rather tricky, but we figured that a nurse could handle taking it out. Well...well, not quite. She certainly tried hard enough, which was un petiet peut uncomfortable, but what can one say? We (well she did all the work) to get the damn needle out, and then back in again for an hour. We had to call two different doctors in the USA in order to walk her through how to get it out, and back in. Grr. Eventually (apparently) I politely asked if there was someone on her team who would be able to do this. I tried not to be mean, but by this point I was very put out by all the pinching of my the tender, recently placed catheter. I was very annoyed that we had to go to ER in order to get the needle taken out, which is actually a very easy thing. We had to go through the whole ER thing, and FINALLY they did put in a new needle in, a procedure that took perhaps a minute, but was all day coming. I was feeling particularly bad on that day too, which didn't help matters.
Well its in. Needle numero dos. I like it as much as the first, maybe more *rolls eyes*.
Honestly, it isn't that bad. Or painful really. The idea of having a needle in my chest revolts me so much. I would love disassociate/disown the right side of my chest, but such things have technical problems.
Friday, December 18, 2009
California.
It is sort of nice being home. Familiar, and it makes the 'stuff' a little more tolerable.
I saw a lot of the people I used to know, which was amazing! They are all so different, taller, older, its wonderful! It makes me feel a little more normal to just be able to hang out with old friends, and just relax.
I went to see the doctor the other day, which really wasn't so bad. Most of the Lyme doctors just talk about the symptoms, rather than poke and prod very much, for which of course I am very grateful. They did, however, 'access' my port for the first time, which wasn't quite as fun as I thought it would be *rolls eyes*. Its not that it hurt, because really there was very little 'true' pain associated with it. Even the stitches don't hurt, but then again I am on hella strong meds, so that might have something to do with it.
Anyways, I didn't watch them put it in, put the feeling was rather bizarre. The port under your skin must be sort of pinched/pushed in a very unnatural way which is very uncomfortable.
I went to the bathroom after, and cried a little, for my life, I guess. The thought of having a needle in my chest was just overwhelmingly awful. And the thought that I will have a needle in my chest, everyday, changed every week, indefinitely, scared the shit out of me, and I wanted to give up right then and there. But that sort of weakness is temporary, the kind that just knocks the knees out from under you for a moment, and brings your heart rate right up.
Of course I am way over that by now. I do not permit myself such displays of weakness often, because my greatest healing power is in my optimism. But I have a touch of the 'realism' in me, which wacks its hard, steely reality into me every now and again.
Everything, when it is fresh, and you are alone to ponder it, seems a million times worse. That is a darkness I fear most.
I saw a lot of the people I used to know, which was amazing! They are all so different, taller, older, its wonderful! It makes me feel a little more normal to just be able to hang out with old friends, and just relax.
I went to see the doctor the other day, which really wasn't so bad. Most of the Lyme doctors just talk about the symptoms, rather than poke and prod very much, for which of course I am very grateful. They did, however, 'access' my port for the first time, which wasn't quite as fun as I thought it would be *rolls eyes*. Its not that it hurt, because really there was very little 'true' pain associated with it. Even the stitches don't hurt, but then again I am on hella strong meds, so that might have something to do with it.
Anyways, I didn't watch them put it in, put the feeling was rather bizarre. The port under your skin must be sort of pinched/pushed in a very unnatural way which is very uncomfortable.
I went to the bathroom after, and cried a little, for my life, I guess. The thought of having a needle in my chest was just overwhelmingly awful. And the thought that I will have a needle in my chest, everyday, changed every week, indefinitely, scared the shit out of me, and I wanted to give up right then and there. But that sort of weakness is temporary, the kind that just knocks the knees out from under you for a moment, and brings your heart rate right up.
Of course I am way over that by now. I do not permit myself such displays of weakness often, because my greatest healing power is in my optimism. But I have a touch of the 'realism' in me, which wacks its hard, steely reality into me every now and again.
Everything, when it is fresh, and you are alone to ponder it, seems a million times worse. That is a darkness I fear most.
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
The Onomatopoeic Procedure
Today- well gosh, its now yesterday!- was a very...new. And different. The kind of day you hope you only get once, lest it'd ruin the memory.
I'm in California. Stereotypically, it was sunny today, and I barely needed a sweater. We went on a wonderful outing, and spent some time at a doctors office. A doctor of vein related thingys (okay...there is a science word I could insert here, only I've clean forgotten it. Blast.), who was very nice. And on time (woah bear.).
It went well! I should start by saying that. The proof is in that I am writing this now! The procedure is simple enough. Wash wash. Snip snip. Push push. Thread thread. Glue-a-dee Glue. See, not so bad?
I had to have an IV in. I'm totally pro at dealing with this now. We can count pinpricks, if you like. Just two, tiny little bruises on the back of my hand, bringing to mind the bite of a little snake. And hardly a mark in the crook of my arm, so little so that it looks like a faint scar! Kodos to her, hunh? Drip drip.- I forgot that in the above onomatopoeic poem- a little saline, and some numbing stuff.
My chest looks GROSS. Not gonna lie. I miss the good ol' days when it was just me, no plastic and cuts and such. The top incision is tiny, half-inch. I wonder what it feels like, cutting through skin with a scalpel? It makes my little waterproof shell and stretchy covering seem rather flimsy and useless, rather like the first drops of rain ripping wholes in an umbrella. Anyways, through this first little incision, I think they slide a little string/tube/wire/whatever down the vein they've found, and down. I don't really know why. Ask a grownup. Now, once they've done whatever it is they've done with that, they make the 'cut'. Its about an inch and a half, give or take a bit of my skin, and that is where it goes. As it is now in me, I suddenly feel awkward talking about it. My little new plastic bit (I'm slowly being bought out and replaced!). Its about the size of a quarter, only round, like those bouncy balls you get out of quarter vending machines in the antechamber of malls. They have to push it, and less than and inch from the incision. That is very uncomfortable. Force of that magnitude had yet to be felt by that part of my body. Ow. Quite impressive force I might add!
It feels big under my skin, which is currently stretching to keep up with the new thing. You can feel it from the outside. A ball. A lump. Under the skin. Above 2 thin burgundy lines. Surrounded by a hardened purple tinged layer, which is like skin glue, to hold the skin together. It was stitched, too. Neatly.
Its sensitive. To touch. Or tense my chest muscles. My heart feels huge in my chest, as I consciously will it to beat a little more to the left, farther from the new bits.
Oh I'm on a lot of pain meds. Oh I'm in a lot of pain (generally. today was a bad day all round). So I may not be making the words go together nicely. I took pictures of the wound. I think it is better to have that sort of thing facing you. If I don't look at it, it will be the monster creeping under the bed, the dark shadow in the night, the blackness of midnight, and it will be magnified and blown out of proportion. Everything looks better in the light. I'm debating whether or not to post the pictures. I'm thinking, well, on one hand, if you have to get a port in, maybe you'd like to know? Maybe it would help to see? If it were me, I'd want to know. Its better out there, than dark and wild hidden.
If you are going to get a Port in, know that if you are anxious about it, about the unknown, that it is not as bad as it seems. And I also know that that doesn't help. But, Lidocaine is greeaattt. Yah, it hurts a little after...no...actually it is more just uncomfortable. It feels awkward and unnatural, but damn straight it is!!
It was really hard for me to be able to face this. Blood turns my stomach, even spilled tomato juice. I took this picture.
I'm in California. Stereotypically, it was sunny today, and I barely needed a sweater. We went on a wonderful outing, and spent some time at a doctors office. A doctor of vein related thingys (okay...there is a science word I could insert here, only I've clean forgotten it. Blast.), who was very nice. And on time (woah bear.).
It went well! I should start by saying that. The proof is in that I am writing this now! The procedure is simple enough. Wash wash. Snip snip. Push push. Thread thread. Glue-a-dee Glue. See, not so bad?
I had to have an IV in. I'm totally pro at dealing with this now. We can count pinpricks, if you like. Just two, tiny little bruises on the back of my hand, bringing to mind the bite of a little snake. And hardly a mark in the crook of my arm, so little so that it looks like a faint scar! Kodos to her, hunh? Drip drip.- I forgot that in the above onomatopoeic poem- a little saline, and some numbing stuff.
My chest looks GROSS. Not gonna lie. I miss the good ol' days when it was just me, no plastic and cuts and such. The top incision is tiny, half-inch. I wonder what it feels like, cutting through skin with a scalpel? It makes my little waterproof shell and stretchy covering seem rather flimsy and useless, rather like the first drops of rain ripping wholes in an umbrella. Anyways, through this first little incision, I think they slide a little string/tube/wire/whatever down the vein they've found, and down. I don't really know why. Ask a grownup. Now, once they've done whatever it is they've done with that, they make the 'cut'. Its about an inch and a half, give or take a bit of my skin, and that is where it goes. As it is now in me, I suddenly feel awkward talking about it. My little new plastic bit (I'm slowly being bought out and replaced!). Its about the size of a quarter, only round, like those bouncy balls you get out of quarter vending machines in the antechamber of malls. They have to push it, and less than and inch from the incision. That is very uncomfortable. Force of that magnitude had yet to be felt by that part of my body. Ow. Quite impressive force I might add!
It feels big under my skin, which is currently stretching to keep up with the new thing. You can feel it from the outside. A ball. A lump. Under the skin. Above 2 thin burgundy lines. Surrounded by a hardened purple tinged layer, which is like skin glue, to hold the skin together. It was stitched, too. Neatly.
Its sensitive. To touch. Or tense my chest muscles. My heart feels huge in my chest, as I consciously will it to beat a little more to the left, farther from the new bits.
Oh I'm on a lot of pain meds. Oh I'm in a lot of pain (generally. today was a bad day all round). So I may not be making the words go together nicely. I took pictures of the wound. I think it is better to have that sort of thing facing you. If I don't look at it, it will be the monster creeping under the bed, the dark shadow in the night, the blackness of midnight, and it will be magnified and blown out of proportion. Everything looks better in the light. I'm debating whether or not to post the pictures. I'm thinking, well, on one hand, if you have to get a port in, maybe you'd like to know? Maybe it would help to see? If it were me, I'd want to know. Its better out there, than dark and wild hidden.
If you are going to get a Port in, know that if you are anxious about it, about the unknown, that it is not as bad as it seems. And I also know that that doesn't help. But, Lidocaine is greeaattt. Yah, it hurts a little after...no...actually it is more just uncomfortable. It feels awkward and unnatural, but damn straight it is!!
It was really hard for me to be able to face this. Blood turns my stomach, even spilled tomato juice. I took this picture.
The truth hurts. It helps, & I'll take it.
“Only by acceptance of the past, can you alter it.”
~T.S. Eliot
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