Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Monday, October 18th, 2010
And here they come, with a plan, maybe, no, sort of…. Come on people make up your mind.
So, Dr. Mooth, my infectious disease doctor, came in first to check up on me. I showed him the sore on my left drain side, and we talked about infections. We knew we weren’t dealing with some superbug, and that I needed to be on antibiotics to kill it. But as long as my expander was left in, then we would have to set me up with a PICC line and give the drugs through IV for ten days. He would have preferred to remove the expander, but Dr. Havard didn’t want to do that, put me through more surgery.
Dr. Havard came in a short time after and I told him what Mooth said. Havard was heading back to the office and would give Mooth a call and they would come up with a plan. It was around 11:30.
Darcy and my mom were there and after this my mom went home and Darcy took me outside. We walked and walked and walked and it felt awesome. There is nothing better when you are feeling crummy than an awesome walk in the sunshine – NOTHING BETTER.
We landed at the cafeteria to eat something and a nurse came and found me to tell me they needed me back in the room, a decision had been made. I ate fast and headed up. That was quick considering how fast doctors take to talk to each other. But at least they had a plan and I would be going home, hopefully – ha.
Got back to the room and there was a woman in there waiting to get me scheduled for my PICC line and that Dr. Havard was wanting me to do this. I wanted to talk to Mooth first before I went ahead because I wanted to know why he changed his mind. Boy did that cause an issue. No one seemed to understand why I would want to talk to Mooth before anything happened. I believe I am in the patient and I have the right to have a choice regarding my health as well. I paused progress for about 30 minutes before we did the PICC line. And what an experience that was.
Everyone must leave the room and it is me and her – Diane. She explains the process, what the position is that I am to lie in, and all the things that could happen but never really do… The whole things scares me and I really didn’t want to do it. I was alone again, battling something I had never done before, I found strength somewhere, but really never had a chance not to.
Imagine laying there on your back, arm extended out toward Diane, palm up, and understand the excruciating pain that comes after you have your boobs cut off and laying in this position – can you say painful?
Then imagine this drape laid completely over you to keep things sterile. You have a little window to look out, that is about it. And the ultrasound to track the line is there with you and should be Diane’s eyes for the next few minutes. Ok, here comes the bee sting, and boy does it stings. She has to numb my underarm to get into my vein with the IV. It’s numb. Uh-huh, yep still hurts.
And she starts feeding in the line. I can’t see it, can’t feel it, just pressure, and I just want out from under this blanket of sorts. Good thing I am not claustrophobic, would have been much tougher, pain and tight places.
She is feeding the line and uh-oh, Sherlock is not working. Oh, good ol’ Sherlock, what in the world is wrong with you (much worse language was singing in my head, but I had an audience, best to stay mature at this point). So Sherlock is this sort of machine that is dialed into the ultrasound machine to make sure she is feeding it properly and not up into my neck or on the other side of my neck. Oh, great it could go to the wrong place is all I could think. But hey, before Sherlock they did it all by feel, so that was what she was going to have to do. She worked very quietly, hated it, and I kept asking questions as I always do. Silence is scary. She ultrasounded my neck to make sure it hadn’t traveled up into it, not there, and then said she thought she got it. OK, clean up and she would get me to X-ray to make sure the line made it to my heart.
A half hour later, x-ray came to me, snapped a shot, and left.
“Good news,” Diane says, “ I got it in the right spot.” So, now she has to officially close me up, tells me how to care for it, and off she went.
By this time it was about 5:30, I was exhausted, so I fell asleep. 7pm came and my nurse, Stormy came in to wake me to get me out of bed and to the support group. I was so exhausted. I said I didn’t want to go. She reminded me of our talk the night before and how much I may need this group, she told me she didn’t want to harass me, but knew this would be good for me. I got up, put on my hat and coat, grabbed my IV bar and walked to the boardroom. I was glad I went but kept falling asleep during the meeting.
That night they gave me some anti-nausea pill, my stomach was so sick. It worked but also made me feel like a zombie. Found out later they used to use it for anti-psychotic people to sedate them….. Yes, it works, too well. No thanks, I will take something else please.
I had to stay another night because they wouldn’t let me go home alone, Jeremy was out of town for week the entire week. Oh well, what was one more night, right?