Port Installation - Monday, July 20,2009

The day of the port was challenging. My friend, Mike, drove me which was a great blessing since I was not allowed to drive myself or return to work afterwards. I understand now why the restrictions. I arrived at the proper department on time and was given a plethora of instructions and a mind-boggling amount of information about the procedure by the attending nurse and the physician’s assistant. Then the physician’s assistant showed me the port they were going to surgically implant in my body. It was a triangular object about an inch wide and a half inch thick. It also had a thin tube attached to it, about a foot long. I was shocked at the size. The physician’s assistant explained that the port would go up underneath my left clavicle. They would make an incision above my clavicle where the tube would be inserted so that it could be placed inside a large vein. They both explained that the port would be visible through my skin because of my thin frame. So now I felt like a Borg from Star Trek. They then put me on "twilight" in the operating room and began the procedure. When it was finished, I was half in and half out, it was like being in a daze or zombie-like state. They waited until I was stable and then released me. Mike drove me home and walked with me up the three flights of steps to my apartment. At one point, I leaned over to get something, and I almost passed out. I made my way to the couch. Mike stayed to make sure I was okay and then left for work. I then had to stay very still with my eyes shut in order not to throw up. This sensation lasted a number of hours.

Unfortunately, I could not rest because every 20 minutes I had to put ice on and off. Later, I somehow managed to make lunch and eat. The day went by quickly. At night before dinner time, I received a phone call from the oncologist. He promptly informed me that he was surprised that I had decided to do chemo. He then told me that he was considering a more aggressive protocol and wanted me to make a decision as to which I would prefer. Would I choose Taxotere/Cytoxan aka (TC) which is less aggressive and has fewer side-effects or Adriamycyn/Taxol/Cytoxan aka AC, a more toxic protocol with more side effects. Not only was I still trying to recoup from the procedure of the day, but the whole idea of deciding between the two protocols added to my stress. I felt like an emotional wreck. Added to that, the idea of a doctor asking me which protocol I preferred was a bit unnerving. At that point I wondered if he knew what he was doing. (Later I realized he did.)

The next day I called my friend, Marge, the oncologist Ph.D. nurse and asked her opinion. She e-mailed a nurse friend of hers who works in an oncologist’s office. The nurse’s counsel was that both protocols were reasonable. However, due to the fact that the AC protocol has been known to produce cardiac side effects, and there is a family history of heart problems, the TC approach would be less problematic. I was immensely relieved and felt more confidant about my original decision.