It’s funny. These doctors and surgeons are supposed to know their shit. To anticipate issues and make it easier on the patient. To have a vague knowledge that when you remove 25 lymph nodes, needle sticks in the arms are out of the question.
Well, there was that fun adventure when my doctor requested the pre-op nurse to use my foot to get IV access for surgery.
Oh yeah. IV access in the foot effing sucks! Get that port early, guys and gals.
He briefly tossed around having them use my neck, until the nurse reminded him I was having port surgery and the surgery was in the neck…ya dumb bastard. (I was seriously starting to rethink the insurance company’s choice of surgeon)
So, knowing all this, why not just place the port during the mastectomy and avoid another surgery?? Well, guess what…
Back in to surgery, again, 2 months later. I’ll keep my snarky comments to myself.
3 hours later I was home with my very own port-a-cath. I looked like I rolled around in a bag of Doritos, but I was barely any pain, thank goodness!! My pain tolerance must be thru the roof.
I felt really good, so I broke out the warpaint and headed out with my roommate.
I tired out very easily, but overall, I was afraid if I stopped, I would get sicker. So, as long as I kept the one shaky foot in front of the other, I’d be cool. Looking back, I don’t know how I did it. It didn’t matter what happened, I would fight to bounce back and most of the time, was successful. I was single and had help from my awesome friend, C, but I was asking for so much support. I had to rely on myself for the most part and I was proud of that! My best friend was there for me no matter what, but I know it was hard for him, especially with work. I wasn’t a spouse or a partner. It’s kinda hard for him to explain that to his work. He did it and never complained.