Last Thursday

I hadn't really thought about the procedure much other than NO COFFEE or food after midnight.  Be at the PCMH Out Patient Clinic at 7 a.m. for my port to be checked.  But it hit me when I turned into the parking lot.  It was the first time I had been there since John died and I just didn't realize how traumatic it would be.

As I pulled in to park, every time I had brought him, every place I had parked....it all flashed into my mind.  Walking across the parking lot, I remembered the times I dropped him off, picked him up... pushed him in the wheelchair into and out of the building.  

Checking in was the same.  Same people that checked John in....they were there....and they always teased him about his name, and he loved it.  But I was alone today.  

Got my blood drawn and soon I was being ushered to the Out Patient area.  They put me in the same bay that John had been in both times he was there.  I would have asked them to move me, but it was the only bed still open.  I looked around the room and remembered so much.  The place I sat my coffee.  Where Meredith sat when she came with us. Everything was the same.  But I was alone today.

Soon the nurse came in.  She looked at me as if she recognized me but didn't say anything.  I remembered her.  The P.A. came in.  Same one John had.  They took my blood pressure.  The stress was showing.

I sat there alone and feeling sorry for myself.  I was the only patient there with no one accompanying them.  Everyone else had at least two people, but I had imposed this situation on myself.   I could have had someone come with me, but I didn't want to bother anyone with having to get up so early just to sit and wait while I had a procedure that was not supposed to be anything major.  And yes, I had a backup plan if something happened and I couldn't drive home.  

So, I started looking at my blessings.  I was probably the only one there that could come by myself.  Most of the other patients seemed to be very ill or old enough they had to have a driver.  

Before long I was wheeled into the procedure room.  It was so cold in there.  All the people were busy attending to the machines, getting everything ready for me....but I was freezing.  I almost felt like an afterthought for them.  "Excuse me, could you get me a blanket?" I said.  They transferred me from the bed to the procedure table.  It was even colder.  The blanket was placed over me but my shoulder and left arm were uncovered.  Brrrrr.....still so cold.  "Could you put the blanket up under my left arm?  The rail against my arm is cold," I said.  The nurse came over and quickly lifted my shoulder to push the blanket under....OUCH!  Guess she hadn't read the information about why I was there.  All the while, they were positioning machines and screens for the procedure.  On the ceiling there was a bank of monitors that looked like a Super Bowl fan's TV dream.  One huge screen surrounded by several other smaller screens.  

As I lay there waiting for the doctor to come in, it occurred to me that I had forgotten to put the numbing cream on my port.  I usually do that prior to chemo so when I am hooked up, it lessens the pain.  I knew today would be even more painful because there had not been sufficient time for healing from the initial chemo treatment on Tuesday.  Oh well, too late now.  Soon it was time to start.  Deep breath and the connection was made.  It did hurt...sort of feels like a knife being plunged into your chest.  I know that sounds dramatic, but it does feel that way.

The dye was inserted.  After checking everything, the port was declared intact and showing no leaks.  Okay!  That was certainly good news as I was worried about possibly having the port removed and another put in.  

Soon, I was wheeled out of the deep freeze and back into my bay.  It was over and I was glad.  My blood pressure reflected it too. 

Port okay....shoulder not.  Still have to figure out what is causing the pain and get back on track and finish the chemo treatment that was stopped on Tuesday.

PCQ