Port in, drugs mounting



Overwhelming Drug Numbers

 Dr Petty surgically implanted the Hickman port, which shall forever hereafter be known as the Port o' Petty.  I told Dr Petty this would be its new moniker and he didn't seem to appreciate the gravity.  I told him twice, "Doc, it is called the Port o' Petty, the next generation Hickman Port."  His only response was that it had a Haitian sound to it.  Obviously a man in need of a PR agent.  Perhaps he was not accustomed to new acquaintances making outhouse references to his name.  Perhaps he hadn't met people like us before.  Just for the record, he was a cool guy, who personally worked with Dr Hickman.  He doesn't deserve any of my derision, but that's all I got.

The port formerly known as Hickman was installed yesterday.  In the same operation they removed the inferior Power Port.  If there was a way to conduct a poll, I would want to know your opinions on what sounds more like a port worthy of bone marrow transplant: Power Port, Hickman Port, or Port o' Petty.  Any of you who feel strongly may post a comment to this blog with your vote. 


Merely Whelmed



Where was I?  Ah, the port formerly known as Hickman Port O' Petty.  Yesterday started as many do here.  It was raining when we awoke so we put on our running rain coats.  By the time we made it downstairs to start running, the rain stopped and we ended up running overdressed.  So when we walked to SCCA, we wore our springtime coats and enjoyed the sunshine.  While I was in the waiting area and Heidi was in surgery, I worked on my work laptop and watched squall after squall interspersed with sunbreaks pass across Lake Union.  About the time Kari reported on Facebook snowflakes were falling in North Bend, there was thunder and lightning (not necessarily in that order) outside SCCA. 



Three hours later Heidi was done with her surgery.  Dr Petty came out to collect me, showed me the x-ray (wouldn't give me a copy, dammit!), and took me back to Heidi's recovery area.  She was eating saltines and drinking ginger ale.  This really angered me because I have offered to buy her ginger ale many times in the past and had always been rebuffed.  Oh, but when the nurses offer it, it tastes so much better.  Sheesh!



Should I title this one: Chemo Girls Gone Wild
or
The only girls who will flash me have tubes coming out of their chests



As we were waiting at the pharmacy for oxycodone, I noticed it had stopped raining.  Good, I thought, because we were still without raingear.  But by the time we got the drugs and made it downstairs, it was pouring and blowing.  Horizontal rain without raingear made us a little wet on our one-mile walk back to Pete Gross Home.  Good way to break through the grogginess from Michael Jackson drugs, says Heidi.



Today we collected the extra set of chemo-preparation drugs and took classes on cleaning the port and operating the pump.  There is a lot of do-it-yourself involved in this course.  A lot of it I get to do.  They will give us one-liter bags of salt water and I get to hook it up to Heidi's port.  They have this cool battery-operated pump that we get to program to dispense at the correct rate.  We'll also get to dispense anti-rejection fluids and supplemental stuff like magnesium and potassium.  Once a day we get to flush the port with saline and heparin.  I get to help.  Once a week we have to change the bandage around the port.  I get to do that too.  They really put a lot of the onus of care on the caretaker helper.  That's me!  So although some people think this blog is only an excuse to write about myself, I am an important part of this procedure.  This would an opportune time to imbed a photo of myself, but unfortunately the only photos we have of me are the ones I have taken.  Refer above to the drug regimen of the merely whelmed.



me



Ah, breaking news:  Heidi read the above and shot multiple photos of me blogging.  Not my most photogenic moment unfortunately.  Maybe it was guilt from the ginger ale comments.