I Blame Ben

Recovery from surgery was pretty smooth. I would say I was back to myself at around 2 weeks. Only hiccup was they sent me home with a blood thinning prescription that was 4 times the amount I was supposed to be sent home with. They send you home with blood thinners after a major surgery to be sure you don't form clots from all that laying around and recovering. I had them in the hospital too. Being on 4 times the correct amount however landed me  back at the surgeon's office about a week after surgery because of profuse bleeding. It was then the mistake was discovered. I went off the blood thinners until the bleeding stopped and then went back on the correct dosage. We blamed it on the discharge resident Ben. We liked Ben and we joked abut the mistake, but truthfully it was a little scary and Dr. Stryker was definitely not pleased.

In retrospect I probably should have taken note of this setback, seen it as an omen. It turns out as far "things that can happen" this was just the beginning. A sign of things to come.

Having shots put into your belly 2 times a day for 28 days isn't fun. I could not muster up the strength to do it myself so my Jim did it for me. Thank God for Jim. The shots sting a bit and your belly bruises. I dreaded getting them and hating seeing the box after box after box of syringes and alcohol pads on our living room shelves. Just another suck to the list of suckage.

We met with the oncologist on the 27th. We liked her and the treatment plan was put in place. 12 rounds of FOLFOX starting in 2 weeks which would be administered through a port I would have surgically implanted on the 8th of May. First chemo treatment would be 3 days later on the 11th.

In the meantime I went to the dentist, had a pap smear, and got my hair done at an all organic salon. I was ready. Or so I thought.

If you are about to get a port you may want to skip this next paragraph. I read and read and read about the simplicity of this procedure but for me it was like a nightmare. I remember all of it because they don't want you totally out. And that sucked. Being awake and being operated on at the same time is not pleasant. In fact it was so unpleasant I'm finding it hard to even write about right now. I never actually felt any drugs kick in. I was way too conscious and aware. It felt like I was in a horror movie as I was being rolled into a basement where a woman eating her lunch in the hallway opened the surgery doors for us. I liked the young nurse I called Gus (I don't really know if that was his name or not. I may have made it up). But became concerned when his choice of music was the Elton John Pandora station. No 20 something year old should be choosing to listen to Elton John in my opinion.

And that's how I made it through the operation. Making fun of Gus' musical choices.

The nurses have to wear what looks like hockey goalie uniforms and stand behind large plastic windows so as not to be overly radiated. And you are prepped and prepped and prepped and then blue sanitary sheets are thrown over your face so that you can't see what's happening to you. I was able to say when things got too uncomfortable, which I guess is good, but the pushing and rubbing and just plan being awake was too much for me. I hated it. It took quite a few days before the pain from the surgery subsided-something I hadn't expected. And I'm still not used to the look of it protruding from my chest or the fact that I can feel it in there, but ports make everything easier when it comes to administering chemo and getting blood drawn. Or so I was told.