Totally Gone - Wednesday, February 24, 2010

The day of the port removal finally came. Mike, from Martindale’s, drove me to the hospital and sat with me until they called me into the surgery prep room. I had anticipated being put on "twilight" (less anesthesia) in preparation for the procedure, but was told I would only be given a local anesthetic. One of the medical personnel had suggested I ask that the physician give me a plastic surgeon’s stitch so that there would be a fine line scar. Unfortunately, the physician’s assistant said a plastic surgeon would have to remove the port for that to occur. So, there I lay, wide awake, while the same doctor who installed the port removed it. I could feel him sewing my skin together but did not bother to ask for more Lydocane as that would entail being stuck with more needles. Soon, however, I found myself remembering all the medical procedures my body has endured during the last nine months due to the cancer, and I began to cry. Since my arms were wrapped in a blanket like a cocoon making it impossible to wipe the tears away, I had to quickly change that thought process to a different one. Finally, the doctor was finished, and the nurse helped me walk back to the prep room in order to be released. Afterwards, Patty, from the store, drove me home, and I rested for the next five hours in between packing the area with ice. Then I went to work for a couple of hours because the nurse said it would be okay to do so. The best part of the whole day, besides the port being removed, was that my sister made her world-famous chicken and home-made stuffing dinner for me. Great comfort food to celebrate a momentous occasion.