port placement-- the story

ok... let's try this again....

i went early to the hospital, having not eaten since midnight the night before. the financial people had already called me the day before, to get $150, so i didn't need anything but me and my identifications.

as before, we were guided by a senior citizen volunteer, who waked at a pretty good pace. he lead us down winding aisles of unused floors with seventies paint. we went to the lab, first, where the nurse took my blood to check my platelets. she asked why i was getting the port put in. "lymphoma." she physically winced, and apologized. i immediately said that things were ok, and that i was sure to be better after the chemo. (i do this all the time....it's the people pleaser in me, i guess.)

the cocoon-aged concierge led us to the elevator, and got us to the second floor. as we were going out, a doctor in a turban was going in. our older gentleman remarked that he hadn't seen the man before...."he must be from a different country." my son and i respectfully nodded, trying not to smirk.

we went to the "special procedures" waiting room, where a paula deen looking receptionist handed me a questionnaire to fill out. the basic "what diseases have you had.... what drugs are you taking...." plus "how do you learn? audio? watching a video? reading?" and a "what keeps you from learning?" section.... language barrier... poor sight.... i'm thinking the last part has to do with how the doctors will explain your operation.

after this, i was led into the operation waiting area....there were curtained areas where different bed were. we were sandwiched between a man in a wheelchair (who moaned in constant pain) and a woman in a reclining wheelchair (who had a friend who constantly was throwing out trash from the different bags hanging off the back of the chair.)

i made the cardinal sin of looking afraid as i was led in. that immediately made me the male nurse's special patient... one he had to win over. i let him overexplain everything....(this actually was a good thing because i couldn't find *anything* about the procedure online.)

i got a blood pressure cuff put on me, and an oxygen sensor clothes-pinnned to my right finger. he also put sensors on my back... my son and i watched the numbers go up and down.... ("breathe real fast! see what'll happen!")... my son said that my blood pressure was better than his was. (i always have good blood pressure. i don't know why...i eat like a southern man who's been starved for four days.)

the procedure went pretty well. no pain, no pressure. i got a shot that didn't knock me out, but kept me from caring about anything. (the nurse said "you're going to have something in common with forrest gump... you're going to get a shot in the 'butt-ox'." i mentioned that like gump, i loved dr pepper. at the end of the ordeal, he gave me two of them.... plus a little boxed lunch. nice.)

while they were tucking the port into my chest, they played my favourite radio station, and talked about hootie and the blowfish. (they were slightly weirded out that he was a country star.) i tried my best to join the conversation, but i started to feel more and more depressed. perhaps it was the fact i was tired going into the surgery (i worried a lot the night before).

the nurse said it will be good to get home, and rest. then he said, "you know what will be a better feeling? it'll be when i see you next.... when you can get this port taken out."

everyone there was full of hope. full of good words for my oncologist. trying to bolster my spirits, which are, unfortunately, fading fast.

you see, when i'm at work there are many people there...encouraging me, and making me feel included in things. i'm about to leave that sense of to-getherness.... and basically be on my own. oh, people say "let me know what i can do to help" but it's hard to articulate what i really want. constant support. caring. love. attention.

i'm about to go under the wire.... and no one will see me disappear.