I lost something yesterday that had been with me for the past 14 months, helping me to get well again...my port! At 5:00 p.m., I was ushered in to a surgical room at my surgeon's office, told to remove my clothes from the waist up, and to put on one of those lovely cotton surgical tops that tie in two places, but don't really keep you covered or warm. My attending nurse, Amy, was already a friend...another "sister" and breast cancer survivor who had been part of the six of us chosen and photographed for Dr.Liberty's Relay for Life team.
Rich came with me, despite my telling him it was not a big deal, but he wanted to be there to see the "finish line" with me. He made himself comfortable in a corner chair in the room and soon Dr. Liberty came in. It was like old home week, with the three of us girls hugging and congratulating each other for reaching this milestone. My examination table soon became my surgical table, as Dr. Liberty lowered me down so that I was lying flat on my back, ready for surgery. I was to be fully awake, which had surprised me when I first made the appointment. I was certain that it would be a bloody affair and I might bleed to death, but Dr. Liberty assured me that it would be all right, and that she hadn't lost anyone yet!
She proceeded to give me several shots around the port to numb the skin on the surface and below, draping the area with several cloths, all the while chatting with me and Amy. We chatted back and forth about hair, lack of hair, eyebrows and eyelashes, dogs and puppies...at one point Rich piped in that he was glad he wasn't a girl! As we talked, Dr. Liberty cut open my old incision, snipped away at the scar tissue that had grabbed hold of my port and, before I knew it, my port was out...I didn't feel a thing! And I was kind of disappointed because I didn't see a thing, either. I had been kind of hoping for one of those mirrors that dentists have where you can see the site they're working on, but this room didn't have anything like that. I also had been forwarned that I might feel the port's line come out of my vein, as it was about 8 inches long, but I didn't feel any of that, either. It was like magic, how easily and painlessly it all came out. A few stitches later and it was all done.
I asked to see the port, as I had never seen anything other than a picture of it after it was put in me. It looked like a miniature computer mouse, tail and all! It was about the size of a hershey kiss, but heart shaped, and with a thin tail. Rich asked me if I wanted to take it home with me but I said no, thinking it might seem weird to do so. But I'm wishing now that I had taken it home...it would be a great show and tell!
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
How dry eye am!
Yesterday I went to the eye doctor for a routine visit, but also because I've been having trouble reading and know that changes in vision can be a side effect of chemo. I've noticed a problem since I started chemo, but it seems to have gotten progressively worse lately. I find myself adjusting and re-adjusting my glasses up and down my nose, and finally just give it up and read until my eyes are too tired and blurry. Not a very pleasant experience for someone who loves to read as much as I do.
At my exam, I learned that one eye's vision hasn't changed but that the other eye has, and so the two of them have been fighting as to who the brain should be listening to when I'm reading. After choosing the best lens between choices "one or two, two or three, three or four", the right correction was determined and it was as if I had put 3-D glasses on...everything was clear again and popped right out at me. It was wonderful!
As we moved on to the "dilated eyes" part of my exam, my doctor asked me if my eyes felt dry, to which I answered, yes...all the time. She said that it looked like my tear ducts were clogged, and also that my oil glands were all dried up, which had caused scarring inside my eyelids...all compliments of chemo. I also had some crazy eyelashes on my lower lids that were turning upward, rather than down, and were poking me in the eyes. I told her that must be the reason I often feel like I have sand in my eyes, on top of their feeling dry. She said she would like to pull them out for me, so she numbed my lower lids and, using her magnifying machine to guide her, plucked out the crazy little eyelashes for me. Ahhhh, no more sand.
While on the subject of eyelashes, I asked her what she thought about the drops that are advertised to increase eyelash growth, and if they really work. She said just what I suspected she would...that they do increase growth on eyelashes that already exist, but don't cause new eyelashes to grow. Just like the hair growth products for your head, they only increase growth of hair that is already there. So, like the hair on my head, I guess my eyes will be "bald", as well. But thank goodness for eyeliner!
She prescribed a couple of kinds of drops for my eyes, to lubricate them and to help with my tear ducts. I told her that one of my most annoying side effects during chemo had been the constant tearing of my eyes, and now here I am having dry eyes...talk about opposite extremes! She smiled and then told me that actually they're one and the same...that my tearing eyes had been caused by my having dry eyes. Go figure.
At my exam, I learned that one eye's vision hasn't changed but that the other eye has, and so the two of them have been fighting as to who the brain should be listening to when I'm reading. After choosing the best lens between choices "one or two, two or three, three or four", the right correction was determined and it was as if I had put 3-D glasses on...everything was clear again and popped right out at me. It was wonderful!
As we moved on to the "dilated eyes" part of my exam, my doctor asked me if my eyes felt dry, to which I answered, yes...all the time. She said that it looked like my tear ducts were clogged, and also that my oil glands were all dried up, which had caused scarring inside my eyelids...all compliments of chemo. I also had some crazy eyelashes on my lower lids that were turning upward, rather than down, and were poking me in the eyes. I told her that must be the reason I often feel like I have sand in my eyes, on top of their feeling dry. She said she would like to pull them out for me, so she numbed my lower lids and, using her magnifying machine to guide her, plucked out the crazy little eyelashes for me. Ahhhh, no more sand.
While on the subject of eyelashes, I asked her what she thought about the drops that are advertised to increase eyelash growth, and if they really work. She said just what I suspected she would...that they do increase growth on eyelashes that already exist, but don't cause new eyelashes to grow. Just like the hair growth products for your head, they only increase growth of hair that is already there. So, like the hair on my head, I guess my eyes will be "bald", as well. But thank goodness for eyeliner!
She prescribed a couple of kinds of drops for my eyes, to lubricate them and to help with my tear ducts. I told her that one of my most annoying side effects during chemo had been the constant tearing of my eyes, and now here I am having dry eyes...talk about opposite extremes! She smiled and then told me that actually they're one and the same...that my tearing eyes had been caused by my having dry eyes. Go figure.
Monday, January 3, 2011
Bring out the hats and horns...and pass the candy!
Today was a red letter day for me...it was my last day of chemo! Rich took the afternoon off from work to go with me and, as usual, the place was full...hardly an empty seat to be found. The private rooms were all taken, leaving us to take two of the last chairs available in the general sitting area. I've become accustomed to sitting out here with the other chemo patients over the course of time. Many of them I see each time I'm there...some are older, some younger, and some are obviously sicker than I am. They are there alone, or with a family member or friend. We all have our little routines and sometimes share our stories. Today I overheard a man tell his wife that he hoped that he would be given a reason to live...to which she quietly answered, I am here and I am your reason.
Being there never fails to make me realize how fortunate I am...to have found my cancer early, to have health insurance to pay for the needed surgeries and chemo, to have the strong support and love of my husband, family and friends. I am thankful for every day and for how little I have had to suffer. I am reminded again of how trivial hair is in the big scheme of things.
Before my appointment, I went downtown to the candy store to buy a box of candy to take in to the oncology nurses as a thank you for all of their TLC. I asked for a five pound box, to be filled with all of my favorite chocolates...double dipped malt balls, milk chocolate covered peanuts, bridge mix, and dark chocolate covered peanuts. It was a smorgasboard of chocolates! When I got to the oncology center, I gave it to Wendy, my nurse throughout my treatments, and asked her to share it with all of the other nurses there. There were oohs and ahs to be heard as they picked out the candies they wanted...it was a universal sound of thankfulness, both given and received.
Forrest Gump had it right when he said that life is like a box of chocolates...you never know what you're gonna get. I think I've got it pretty good!
Being there never fails to make me realize how fortunate I am...to have found my cancer early, to have health insurance to pay for the needed surgeries and chemo, to have the strong support and love of my husband, family and friends. I am thankful for every day and for how little I have had to suffer. I am reminded again of how trivial hair is in the big scheme of things.
Before my appointment, I went downtown to the candy store to buy a box of candy to take in to the oncology nurses as a thank you for all of their TLC. I asked for a five pound box, to be filled with all of my favorite chocolates...double dipped malt balls, milk chocolate covered peanuts, bridge mix, and dark chocolate covered peanuts. It was a smorgasboard of chocolates! When I got to the oncology center, I gave it to Wendy, my nurse throughout my treatments, and asked her to share it with all of the other nurses there. There were oohs and ahs to be heard as they picked out the candies they wanted...it was a universal sound of thankfulness, both given and received.
Forrest Gump had it right when he said that life is like a box of chocolates...you never know what you're gonna get. I think I've got it pretty good!
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