On MY Terms

When I was given my first chemotherapy treatment, along with a zillion other pieces of information about the side effects, I was told that I would for sure, 100% guaranteed, lose my hair on the 14th day after being flooded with these chemicals.  There's not a similar assurance about losing other body hair but definitely the hair on my head.  While being bald never bothered me much, comforted in the knowledge I may be rewarded with the re-growth being curly or red or something different, the fact that I could wake up to clumps or my whole hair mass on my white pillowcase or the fact that I could wash my hair and have a big chunk in my hand freaked me out.  Neither of those options appealed to me in the least so after waking up a few nights in a row, turning on the lamp to check my pillowcase, I decided I wanted to be proactive in this one matter.

Having cancer makes me feel very vulnerable and quite helpless when it comes to my care.  I had to accept the fact I had to undergo a mastectomy, port insertion surgery, invasive tests and now chemotherapy.  I have to accept that I even have cancer and that I can't do all the things I want to do.  But I don't have to wait anxiously for the day my hair falls out.  So I decided to gather some friends and invite my hairdresser, Michelle, who is also a friend, to my place for a head-shaving event.

Michelle arrived in her apron, ready for action.  She squeezed me between two clients and I so appreciated her coming to me.  Michelle is one of those people we all wish we could be more like.  She is kind, caring, sweet, funny and very straight-to-the-point honest.  She's like a breath of fresh air in my life and I have come to love her over the years.  I first met her when my oldest daughter was to graduate high school.  She did an amazing job and has been my hairdresser ever since.  She made us all feel like princesses on that special day and I'll never forget the experience.

I sat on a chair with my friends and parents surrounding me.  I always wondered what I'd look like in a mohawk, you know, like those crazy fans at football games, so we started with the sides.  I figured I'm not likely to shave my head again so may as well make some fun out of it.  The sensation and vibration around my ears was weird.  We stopped at intervals to laugh out loud and shed a couple of tears.  Everyone told me I would look great and rock the bald look.  That's what friends are for.  I wasn't so sure.  Of course, I have the world's best toque and hat collection now (see blog - The Epic and Unforgettable Pinkness in Pitt Party).

Photos were taken and encouraging words spoken.  Michelle was busy at her task and making sure not to shave me "to the wood" as I have a bit of a rash reaction from the chemotherapy drugs.  She said she'd leave me with a layer of fuzz so as not to open any of the bumps on my scalp and I agreed that I could handle waking up to a little fuzz in my bed.  However, if I wake up to two eyebrows on my pillowcase that could be strange.  I picture them as two arches as though they transferred from my face in their current state onto my pillow.

Mohawk achieved.  I've been dyeing my hair for so long I didn't realize how grey my whole head really is underneath.  Apparently a mohawk doesn't lie!

With the sides gone, it was time to take the middle strip off.  I was drawn into Nadine's eyes and we both shed a tear or two over that.  It was a very touching moment between good friends.  All I could think about was how lucky I am to have a chance to beat my disease and I'm so worried about her losing her beloved husband to his cruel ALS and what all that will mean to them both.

I could see TeeTee wiping tears from behind her camera.  There were smiles and "those eyes" all around me, the eyes people look at you with when they feel bad for you.  It all turned to laughter and compliments very quickly.  Can't keep me or my friends down for long!
 
Once I was completely clean-shaved, I let everyone touch my head.  It is prickly and soft all at the same time.  I actually don't mind the way I look hairless and after having a shower and realizing how much maintenance hair is, I may just enjoy the break.

Michelle posing with me "before"

Me with the "toupee" look

Mohawk

Striped Mohawk (aka grey roots!)

A Special Moment with Nadine

Done - Baldness Achieved!

Mom and Dad

Me with Nadine "After"

Lori, Carrisa and Taylor

Nadine and Alex (with pink-streaked braids!)

I'll Get By With a Little Help From My Friends...

I have always been a Beatles fan and love listening to the CD my daughter made me for my van.   It brings back lovely memories.  During this hourly battle for my life, this song comes to mind.  I say hourly because every hour my symptoms, reactions and emotions change.

The first day was the roughest for sure.  Sitting in a hospital chair watching three bags of chemicals empty in your otherwise drug-free body was horrifying.  That night, TeeTee stayed over with me, as I was scared to be left alone.  We were trying to decide if those first hours' worth of side effects were as a result of all the adrenaline and anxiety of the day or if these were truly side effects from the noxious fluids.  We won't know until the second round, I suppose.  My symptoms ranged from tingling and pounding in my head to one long wave of nausea.  I took every mandatory and optional pill as I was determined not to throw up.  The advice is to do that and I figured this was not a time to disprove any doctors' theories.  Just swallowing the pills made me gag.  I was afraid to move or talk or breathe.  TeeTee made me soup and I tried a few teaspoons of that.  I came very close to vomiting once but then the pills kicked in right at that moment and I felt somewhat better for about an hour.  I didn't sleep well at all, wishing things, all things, could be different.

Upon waking, I opened my eyes and couldn't believe I was alive and not feeling too badly.  I couldn't hear TeeTee awake so I lay there, still in my thoughts, and assessing each body part.  Nothing had fallen off overnight.  I think I expected there'd be an arm or leg next to me in the bed or something.  When I got up, TeeTee and I had my usual breakfast of yogurt, banana, granola and cranberries.  I had a few sips of coffee but haven't been able to stomach that since.  Lori came by with watermelon, which is now the best fruit on the planet, ginger ale and crackers.  This was my diet for the day.  When my girls were sick, it was ginger ale and crackers so I figured this might work for me if the nausea returned, which it did.  The day went fairly well, TeeTee left in the afternoon and Tracey came by on her way home from work, just in case I was scared again.  Again, I took all the recommended meds and played hero to no one.

Day three, I felt horrible again.  I forced myself to have a shower.  My sense of smell is heightened like never before.  Not even when I was pregnant was it this sensitive to everything.  I just figured if I had a shower at least I wouldn't offend visitors.  Today wasn't as bad as the first night - nothing has been that bad - but horrible nonetheless.  Pounding, tingling head, nausea and aching all over, head-to-toe, front-to-back.  Lori and Sharon came by for a brief visit and Sharon brought each of us cancer survivors (of course I'm "pending") bracelets to cheer us up. 

Days four and five were very similar to day three.  Tracey came over and spent the day cleaning my place and she changed my sheets.  That felt good for sure. 

Day six, the fog lifted, the nausea subsided completely and I actually felt up to watching the Lions win the west and the Canucks beat the east.  I managed a full meal and a shower. 

Sleeping is definitely an issue.  I was so tired one night I thought I was going to die from exhaustion.  The simplest things are complex.  Typing this blog used to come very naturally but now it's a struggle.  Reading emails, let alone responding to them, is difficult.  I have so many people checking in on me daily to make sure I'm okay I felt I wanted to get this blog out.

If there were one thing I'd change about the Beatles song, it would be the world "little" because it's taking a lot of help from my friends - but they are all there.  In my darkest moments, I can see them standing in front of me cheering me to victory.  I can see them walking beside me every step of the way.  But most importantly, I can feel them pushing me from behind when I so desperately just want to stop trying, when there seems no point to all of this.  They make me realize that no matter what else is happening in my life, I have to fight for a happier tomorrow, that things will get better and somehow that makes me keep going.  So that's what I will do.

Chemotherapy or Forced Rehab???

The past two Saturday nights I have partied hearty and probably drank more crantinis than would be prescribed by my oncologist.  All that partying has come to a dramatic halt as the nurse, today, told me that it may not make me feel very good to drink alcohol during my chemo treatments.  I may challenge her on that at some point and give into the occasional cocktail.  As I've said before, I can't think of a better time to drink than being on chemotherapy!

Today was my first chemotherapy treatment.  I actually slept pretty well last night.  I guess I wasn't as terrified about this as I was for the surgeries.  I walked in with the attitude that this will be one down, five to go, but as TeeTee and I got closer to my "pod" (the place where they keep the pod people) my heart started to race and the dread of reality set in.  We were introduced to Nurse Lisa, who sat me in the appropriate chair and was ready to hook me up through my chest port to receive all the toxic liquids.  I held TeeTee's hand and burst into tears as Lisa gently jabbed (can you really "gently" jab??) the needle into my port.  I don't think it was so much the pain of the needle going in as the utter fear of the knowledge that this necessary poison was going to start pumping into the vein that leads to my right ventricle.  I know this is necessary to save my life, and it better work, because I'm not going through all of this for negative results.  Nurse Lisa was then very thorough in explaining all the medications' side effects, including her personal guarantee that I will lose the hair on my head on the 14th day.  After being completely overwhelmed by too much information, it was time to get started.  Nurse Lisa then gave me my anti-nausea medication and offered me a drink to wash them down.  We all had a good laugh, as my first request was for a crantini or a glass of shiraz.  I settled for water.

Nurse Lisa then hung my bright red Kool-aid-coloured drip and I held her hand while we all watched it course through what seemed like miles of intravenous tubing until it went right into my chest.  The moment the liquid hit my chest made me feel completely vulnerable and rather violated, something I wasn't ready for.  At that moment I should have been holding TeeTee's hand, but she was too busy videotaping and photographing this incredibly personal moment.  Truth be told, I requested her to document every step of this day, so she's not "really" being too negligent in her comforting duties.  I was also told I could expect to pee orange or red, so not to freak out when that happens.  After 10 or 15 minutes, the red bag was drained and the next bag of drugs were hung.  This one only took six minutes to course through my system, and then the final bag was pumped by a machine into my body for 45 minutes.  The final step today was to flush my port with a saline solution to cleanse my port for next time, then I was done.

On our way out I had to pee and, sure enough, it was bright orange, as promised.  I stopped just short of photographing the toilet bowl for my blog.  While some things don't need to be seen, others apparently must be heard, as I find myself full of gas and farting with every step I take.  It reminds me of a motorboat in action.   This apparently nauseates TeeTee, so she may have to borrow some of my medication to cope.

So now I've been home for a few hours, feeling sort of "strange".  I'm not sure if that's as a result of the stress and adrenalin of today or if it's the side effects I was informed about.  After realizing it was late in the day and I hadn't eaten since breakfast, I had some toast and experienced a wave of nausea, so decided to give in and take my "bonus" anti-nausea pill and have basically been laying on the couch, allowing TeeTee to be my personal nurse for the afternoon.  She has also been acting as my secretary, reading me emails, fielding my calls, and even typing this blog through dictation.  I think the rest of my day will be spent laying around, feeling somewhat sorry for myself, but strong in the knowledge that there are a lot of you out there cheering me on and pulling for me.  I'm once again very grateful not to walk this path alone.  Now, if I could only figure out a way that you could take my chemotherapy for me, that would really make me feel a lot better.  I'm not sure how often I'll be blogging over the next little bit, but will do my best to keep you all updated on my progress.  Keep your positive thoughts flowing.  Next time you see pictures of me I may be bald with a handlebar moustache, waxed lovingly on the tips into a perfect curl.  Oh, did I forget to mention that it seems unwanted hair growth is a possible side effect from one of the many medications?  Talk about adding insult to injury.

Till next time…

Uh-oh, this can't be good

Me and Nurse Lisa B4 it begins

Anti-naseau pills......check!!

I don't want to do this anymore....

Heated blanket, pillow, IV drip....just waiting for my pedicure...

Nurse Deb removing the tubes

One down.....five to go.....Yes!!

Reality hits hard.  Not feeling so great.  Thank goodness for my comfort blankie and my beloved TeeTee.

Happy Dance Day!

Today was the day I've been nervous about.  Well, surprisingly not as nervous as the day I went for my port insertion surgery.  Somehow being stuck with more needles and cut open again to install the port and a tube that runs to my carotid artery freaked me out more than the news I may have cancer in other parts of my body!

I underwent a CT scan of my abdomen and a head-to-toe bone scan.  Lori drove me to the appointment and we met TeeTee there.  The three of us tried to convince the nurse to supply us with wine, Ativan or champagne and orange juice.  While she said she couldn't do that, she laughed with us and thought it was a great idea!  So with our usual good humour, we waited for the oncologist to bring us the news.  He confirmed my tests were negative for spread and that they would just keep an eye on my liver, which seems pretty common for my type of cancer.  Whew - what a huge relief!

We all just refer to breast cancer as "breast cancer".  I decided I wanted to know what the formal name of my form of breast cancer is and had asked a couple of weeks ago.  I have what's commonly known as "triple negative breast cancer".  It's scientifically known as "ER-negative, PR-negative, her-2/neu-negative, Grade 3, Stage 2 carcinoma breast".  While getting negative test results today is a good thing, apparently triple negative breast cancer is not.  How confusing this all has become.  All I know is, for today, for now, all is as good as can be expected.  The three of us shared high-fives and Lori exclaimed, "This is great!  Life is good!" and TeeTee admitted this was definitely a happy dance day!

Next is chemotherapy, which starts on Tuesday.  I was handed three prescriptions to fill for nausea medication.  The doctor said one may constipate me, one may make sleep impossible and the other is a back-up in case the first two don't work well enough.  For someone who doesn't take Tylenol, this is mind-boggling.  As I've said all along, however, every day done and every treatment behind me is a day closer to recovery so I say, bring it, and let's get 'er done!

Going to happy dance now...will you join me?

The Epic and Unforgettable Pinkness in Pitt Party

Last Saturday night will forever remain one of my fondest memories.  There was a ton of laughter, a few tears and many gentle hugs throughout the evening.  Lori invited us all to her Manor for a pre-chemotherapy pick-me-up party and she nailed it!  When I walked into her home, I immediately was drawn to the pink decorations she used to dress her dining room.  Lori and I admit we are not the most creative people so she definitely outdid herself.

Ethel (Sabrina) was our bartender and photographer for the evening.  I started with a cosmopolitan and then asked her what she was drinking.  She said it was a crantini and invited me to take a sip.  I left her the cosmo and drank crantinis for the rest of the night.  I think that may become close to Shiraz on my party list.

Guests arrived, one after the other, until there were more than 20 friends in attendance.  I was thrilled to see each and every one.  I couldn't really hug anyone so just leaned in for kisses.  Post-mastectomy, I hugged with my right side, saying, "This is my good side."  Since I had just had my power port surgically implanted two days prior into my right chest, I really didn't have a good side.  However, where there's a will, there's a way and Susie found it.  She said my backside was my good side and hugged me from behind.  So sweet.

Patty brought a cake she'd had made that was topped with a photograph of Team K3 from our CIBC Run for the Cure and it was inscribed, "We Love You Karen".  Leanne made a tray of pink-frosted cupcakes and arranged them in the shape of the breast cancer ribbon.  Nadine brought her signature (and always delicious) strawberries dipped in chocolate, all arranged on a pink heart-shaped platter.  There were trays and dips and fattening goodies everywhere - the table was a feast!

I received a couple of gifts from guests who had to leave early: Adele with a lovely flower-embellished toque-and-scarf matching set.  Gail presented me with a gift from her friend (see blog, The Kindness of Strangers).  Gail had to excuse herself early, as she was volunteering at a fundraising event for sick children.  I gave her $20 to donate and said to buy a 50/50 ticket or raffle basket.  Nadine had to leave to cheer for her daughter in a hockey game.  I was just touched that although they all have such busy lives, these friends took the time to come and spend the evening with me.

As people arrived with gift bags, I honestly thought it was someone's birthday and I'd dropped the ball.  Then it became apparent that there was a theme and everyone had brought things to comfort me through chemotherapy.  Everything from toques, hats, scarves, mitts and socks to jewellery, a book, a CD, ornaments and a pink rock.  A very special pink rock.  My friend, Audrey, presented me with her gift bag and said part of it was from her daughter, the always gracious Kate.  Kate wrote a beautiful sentiment and prayer for me.  She explained that she'd found this rock at the river and painted it pink.  She had used the rock during her prayer for me and then inscribed it with, "Zephaniah 3:17" and wrapped it as a gift.  A very caring gesture from such a sweet girl.

Then there was the bald cap.  Leanne decorated two bald caps with "K3", flowers and rhinestones.  She recalled me mentioning that the oncologist said I couldn't carry out my plan to henna tattoo "K3 4EVR" on my bald head, as the ink may actually leach into my bloodstream so it wasn't allowed.  I was disappointed and this was Leanne's way of solving that.  She made herself one, as she is one of the friends shaving her head in my honour, so we got a preview of how we will look hairless.

There were many laughs and compliments as I tried on different hats.  I've never considered myself to carry off the hat look well at all but knowing I will have no choice, as I'll be bald just as winter arrives, has made me appreciate the humour and fashion of it all.  I now have enough hats and scarves that if I mix-and-match well, I won't wear the same two for the duration of my treatment.  I felt very spoiled and extremely loved by all the thought, attention and care that went into choosing just the right gift from each and every friend.

The lesson for me is to allow others to give.  I know from experience that giving to someone else or to a cause is a great way to help us cope with difficult situations.  While it is incredibly humbling and somewhat embarrassing to be on the recipient end, the outpouring of love that goes with each act of kindness lifts my spirits and helps me see the big picture - that no matter what's thrown my way, I have an army of people to walk with me, sometimes pushing me from behind to keep me going, each step of the way through this battle.  And for that, there aren't enough words to express my gratitude and appreciation except to say to you all, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

 
Oh, and when I got home I had a message from Gail.  She used my $20 for 50/50 tickets and I won - $167!  What an ending to already fantastic night!  Three days later, my cheeks are still sore from smiling.  Now, that's a pain I can live with!

Table decorations at the Manor

More Pinkess

My beautiful cake!  Thanks Patty!

Nadine's Strawberries

Leanne's Cupcakes!

Ethel Shakin' Up the Martinis!

Me Enjoying a Crantini!

Me and Leanne - Embracing the Baldness!

Me with Susie Toasting Our Friendship

Taylor Rockin' the Mohawk

Bev, Sheilah, Sharon and Me

Me and Lori - Cheers!

TeeTee and Ethel

Friends Modelling Hats (and Leanne still bald)

The Kindness of Strangers

We always seem to be awash in negativity through the media, the news of the world and how cruel mankind can be to one another.  Of course, there are the bright spots that give us all hope and strength to believe there is a better tomorrow and that we can all improve on our humanity, individually and collectively, that through simple acts of kindness we can all live a happier, more content life.

My friend, Lori (see blog, This is Great!  Life is Good!) , hosted a "Pinkness in Pitt Party" to lift my spirits.  So many great friends came and did just that!  While I will definitely provide further blogs on the party itself, I'd like to dedicate this blog to the kindness of strangers.

It became apparent that there was a bit of a theme to the party and that was toques, scarves, socks, anything to keep me warm and comfy (and very stylish) during the winter months while I'm bald and undergoing chemotherapy treatments.

One toque came from a woman who is a total stranger.  Her name is Joann and she is friends with my friend, Gail.  I was presented with a gift bag, along with a card of well wishes from Joann, who spotted a lovely toque on the ferry and thought I would like it.  This struck me as just so sweet.  Even strangers are reaching out to support me.

Bev's mom, Margaret, is a cancer survivor and made me an exquisite scarf.  It's very unique and all my friends would like one!  Her mom said it was "from one survivor to another".  That touched me.

There is a singer in Kelowna named Gorden James, who is a friend of my friend, Sheilah.  He sent her his CD titled "Heart of the Matter" to pass on to me.   I've spent the morning listening to it and it is very uplifting and soothing music and the words are very meaningful.  He inscribed the CD with the words, "Karen, be strong and even strangers are praying for you."

Today, I was given a beautiful blanket handmade by a thoughtful woman in Texas.  Her name is Maxine.  I don't know her, have never met her and here she is thinking of me, praying for me and taking the time to make a cozy cover for my comfort during my chemotherapy.  It is beautiful and one of the softest things I've ever felt.

 
These gestures mean so much at this difficult and challenging time.  I will be forever grateful for the love and support of my many friends and family, as well as the kindness of complete strangers who have reached out in a successful attempt to make my world happier and more content.

Holding the CD over my heart - thanks Gorden!

Snuggled in the softest blanket ever - thanks, Maxine!

To The Moon, Alice!

I met Tracey (aka Alice) about 25 years ago at a bus stop.  We were with another woman, Gill, and the three of us struck up a conversation and became friends.  Throughout the years, we've been in and out of touch raising families, living in different places and just busy living life.  A few years ago, Gill invited Tracey and me for coffee and we were all reunited once again.  Turns out, Tracey and I landed in the same town, living only minutes apart so our friendship has blossomed.  Our lives have taken very similar twists and turns so we understand each other when no one else can relate.

When I was couch-surfing, she gave up her very comfortable bed for me.  She cooked me amazing meals, we shared way too much wine and could just sit and watch a TV movie in silence.  When I was ready to set down roots again and move out on my own, she was excited with me.  I needed a dresser; she gave me one of hers to use.  When I secured a landline, she loaned me her cordless phones.  She even provided a wine rack for my home-brewed bottles of Shiraz.  It just works like that - whatever one needs, the other helps to provide.  So far, I think the only thing I've provided is omelettes - she loves my omelettes.

We were going to a local event, an annual Caribbean Festival, and when I picked her up, I said I needed to stop at the clinic.  She asked what was wrong and I said I found a lump and was scared it was serious.  She got teary right away, asked a couple of questions and came with me.  (see blog, Breast Cancer?  Me?) 

A couple of weeks later, we were set to go to Las Vegas with two other girlfriends, Ethel (see blog, Lucy and Ethel) and Jenn.  Tracey was going to be my roommate.  We were very excited to be getting away and to have this fun adventure together.  Days before we were to leave, my fear came true: I was diagnosed with breast cancer.  I knew it was going to break her heart, as she is a very kind and sensitive soul and does not like to see anyone hurt.  I took her hands in mind, looked her in the eyes, and said, "It's not good, honey."  She was shocked and saddened at the news but we vowed to go to Vegas and have the time of our lives, heavy-hearted with the knowledge things were going to be rough when we got back. 

On the drive to the airport, we all agreed once we hit the border to not speak of cancer, to just enjoy our trip and have a lot of laughs.  I truly believe it's the best medicine.  I felt I was a little slow on our trip but Tracey was very gracious and declared she still couldn't keep up with me.  When we were going to the hotel swimming pool and I put on my bathing suit top, I was shocked to see that my left breast was visibly larger than my right.  I started crying and couldn't stop.  Tracey comforted me and helped me position it in my top so it wasn't as noticeable.  She said, "Look at that cleavage!" to which I replied, "You mean I finally get cleavage and it's caused by a tumour?!"  That was it.  I wiped my eyes dry and we spent the entire day in the pool.  Of course, the rest of that story stays in Vegas!

It was in Vegas that Tracey was dubbed "Alice".  She and Jenn felt they needed nicknames, as Ethel and I had been dubbed Lucy and Ethel for quite a while.  So we decided Tracey would be Alice and Jenn would be Trixie.

 
The best thing about Tracey is that no matter what we're doing, watching TV, sipping wine, shopping, fundraising or just talking, you know you're in the company of a true friend.  She has my back and I have hers.  We always want the best for each other and are always kind to one another.  When one hurts, the other cries.  When one laughs, the other celebrates.  We will be friends forever more, from Vegas to harsh reality - and even to the moon, Alice!

Tracey loving me in Whistler!

Me with Tracey at I Like Mike - Walk for ALS

Me with Tracey at the CIBC Run for the Cure

Me with Tracey at the Pinkness in Pitt Party!

Port Is Not Just A Wine Anymore...

Two nights ago I couldn't sleep for five minutes.  I was very anxious about yet another surgery, this time to install a port into my chest, as a pathway for the chemotherapy into my bloodstream.  This is all in an effort to save my arms from permanent vein damage so I can continue to hug without pain.  I am a typist by trade so that's another reason but the biggest one is to be able to hug.

I had attended a "port teach" class in preparation for the port insertion surgery and was advised that I could request an Ativan before the local freezing was administered and that would take the edge off.  TeeTee came with me and told me to ask for two pills so she could have one as well.  The thought of the surgeon cutting into my chest with me just having the "edge" removed freaked me out so I didn't sleep a wink.

We arrived at the hospital really early as there was no traffic on the route there for the first time in recent history.  Turns out this was a good thing as I got to be the first to have the procedure and so wouldn't require someone to stay overnight with me as the happy medicine would be out of my system by nightfall.  Turns out, I was going to be given a pleasurable intravenous sedation.

"Denise" was my nurse and she admitted me, took my information and installed the IV into the back of my hand.  I find this the worst part so I know a port was the right choice for me.  She let TeeTee come in and hold my hand while all this was going on.  She didn't understand that TeeTee would just use this as another opportunity to heckle me.  So with needle in hand, I was wheeled to the Interventional Radiology Department where I was asked some further questions.  I asked what the bright blue plastic card was for, suggesting I could perhaps redeem this for a glass of Shiraz (or port) afterwards, and she said that was a great idea, that no one had suggested that before.  Hard to believe but true!

A specialist then came and explained the procedure to me.  As he described the two incisions and that I would have dissolvable stitches, I was just thankful I didn't have to have staples again.  Then he said they put Dermabond, a super glue, over top of the whole thing so I won't have to change dressings.  The Dermabond also helps to prevent infection and will fall off in two purple blobs between one and two weeks post-surgery.

When I was then wheeled into the surgical room, I was freezing.  They explained the air conditioning just kicks in during the month of November as they sweat all summer long.  I was covered in a pile of three heated blankies and made as comfortable as possible.  Then three television screens appeared, I assumed for football, baseball and hockey.  Apparently they're so the surgeon can see where he's going in my chest.  Then the nurse peeled back my gown, exposing the right side of my chest and I said something about it's nice to still have one nipple that stiffens in cold weather.  She then covered my surgical site with antiseptic and a big blue tarp.  I welcomed the extra layer of warmth and the fact I couldn't see the TV screens.  Then came in my favourite person, the anesthetist.  He said he could put wine into the IV but he had something better.  And he was right!  Except for the initial poke of the needle for the freezing in my chest, I felt nothing at all.  It was like I was awake but completely zoned out.  I said something to the surgeon and he said, "She's still talking.  Give her more."  If I'd known that's how it worked, I would have babbled endlessly, as everyone knows I can!

The whole surgery took about 30 minutes.  I then recovered back in the initial area with Denise and TeeTee.  Another nurse drew an ink circle around a small bruise and said they'd keep an eye on that as it could be the sign of a leak.  When it was determined the bruise hadn't spread, I was released.  I walked in very slow motion to the hospital parking lot.  I spotted a car with a licence plate I knew my friend, Lori, had arranged for me to see!  TeeTee drove me home and babysat me for a while.  Then it was naptime so she left with instructions to call me and wake me up to make sure I'm okay.  Good thing I called her when I woke up because she totally lost track of time.  It's tough to get good help these days.

As I hadn't slept at all the night before the procedure, I slept like a baby all day and night, only waking to check-up phone calls and to take Tylenol to "keep ahead of the pain".  That's definitely part of my to-do list, to keep ahead of the pain.  Truth to be told, that's all that's on my to-do list for today.  I have to get better and be pain-free, as tomorrow night is a girls' get-together.  Oh, yes, I have my priorities straight!  Tomorrow night, I will enjoy the original kind of port and celebrate my friendships!

Nurse Denise making sure I'm okay post-surgery

My two latest "battle scars"

Hopefully my last "hand" IV!

Licence plate says "LIFS GD" and the sticker on the back window says "Life Is Good"!

Thanks, Lori!