Scalpel? Scalpel.

On Friday, November 18, I went in to have my port removed. As much as the original idea of having a port gave me the heebie jeebies, I had gotten used to having a weird lumpy object protruding from my chest. Don't get me wrong though, I was certainly looking forward to finally being done with all things cancer related.

The procedure was very simple. The lady that scheduled my appointment assured me that I would not need anything more than local anesthesia and that I could return to work later in the afternoon as long as I wasn't doing anything too strenuous. When I informed her that I work at a gym, she began to get a little hesitant about allowing me to return to work, but then agreed on the stipulation that I couldn't do any heavy lifting or bending over to tie my shoe. Weird thing to stipulate, but I agreed in order to save using one of my precious vacation days.

After checking in, I was called back to the pre-operation area to change. Since this procedure was going to be so quick, they told me I only needed to undress from the waist up. It was a little weird being in a hospital gown and jeans, I must say. But I still got the perks of pre-operation as they brought me a blanket that had been in a warmer. Ohhh, it was nice. I think I need to invest in a blanket warmer. When it was time for my surgery, Dr. McDreamy, I mean, Dr. Isch came in to explain the procedure. He is the doctor that put my port in and is basically Hottie Mc-Hotterson. Shane, if you are reading this, please don't get mad. You know you think is a very attractive person too. And he is just so nice, it is hard not to want surgery every other week.

They wheeled me into a small room (i.e. a closet that they converted into a room for simple surgeries such as this) and got everything situated for the doctor to come in and do his thing. They numbed the area and from then on out it was exactly like you see on TV. The doctor said, "Scalpel." And as the surgical assistance passed the scalpel right over my face, she replied with, "Scalpel." It was bizarre to hear my skin ripping and tearing along with the juices slurping around, but feel no pain. And this was all happening just inches from my face. As they began to near completion, they asked if I would like to see it. Of course I would!! It wasn't too exciting as I had seen one before they put it in my body, but it was still kind of cool.

After he stitched me up, it was time to wheel me back out to the pre-operation area. As the surgical assistant opened the door and began pulling my bed through the doorway, I noticed he was having a bit of trouble keeping the door open. Since I was fully awake and functional, I thought I could help him out by simply reaching over and holding the door as he scooted my bed through. But as I did, he quickly and firmly said, "Please keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times." Once I began laughing, he said, "If you leave this place with anything other than your port removed, I am going to be in big trouble." Even though I was sure my immune system was stronger than door germs, I quietly obeyed and let the door hit my bed and practically knock me off as he wheeled me out.

But I made it out alive and after a few days of pain, I am back to my original B.C. (before cancer) state. Stay tuned for a belated Thanksgiving post.

Your Blood Pressure Must Be High

A week has passed since my last radiation treatment and while the side effects are subsiding, they are still noticeable. The most noticeable of which is my voice. Those little radioactive particles zapped my vocal cords. You should hear me try to talk. The sounds of my voice have been likened to a 90 year old man, a habitual smoker, and a stoma patient. Seeing as I like to talk and in fact my job requires me to speak with people on a fairly frequent basis, the last week has been interesting. People usually do one of two things when they hear me for the first time. They either empathetically ask if I am sick or just subtly take a few steps back to be polite, yet ensure that they don't catch whatever it is that is making me sound like this.

The other effect people have been mentioning is my red face. Because radiation is kind of like a bad sunburn (except way worse), the treated area becomes red/pink after awhile. My chest didn't get too red, but my face turned blazing red. I practically look like a tomato and people have been drawing their own conclusions as to why.

"Your face is red, did you just get done working out?"

"You look tan, did you go somewhere warm?"

And my favorite assumption of them all - "Your face is red, your blood pressure must be high."

I am so happy to be done with radiation. At first, the only toll it took was on our gas tank with the daily trips to the cancer center, but after a few weeks the radiation effects were worse than the chemo effects. The horrendous mouth sores and swollen throat were enough to make a girl that can only eat mashed potatoes quite miserable. I've been telling people that I would take chemo over radiation any day. But to be honest with you, I would much rather never have either one again.

Rough Week

Last weekend my mouth went from dry to painfully sore. All of a sudden my saliva glands started working over time and I developed terrible white sores in my mouth. After doing some research online, I thought it might be thrush. Since I had been saliva-less for the past two weeks, I thought it would make sense that some bacteria may have taken root in my oral cavity. As the soreness and symptoms increased Sunday night, I decided it would be a good idea to alert my doctor. So Monday morning I arrived at my appointment early and requested to see the doctor. He told me it wasn't thrush, just a side effect from the radiation. There was nothing he could do other than give me pain medication. I left his office very frustrated and upset. The pain was one thing, but to top it off, I couldn't eat because of it. How was I supposed to go through another week and a half of this pain?

After seriously weighing the pros and cons of quitting radiation treatment early, I decided that it is not in my character to quit anything and that I would continue the treatment. Needless to say, this week has been close to torturous with my inability to consume anything other than milk and mashed potatoes and the sores in my mouth still raging.

On Friday, I was prepared to tackle the 15th treatment, but after waiting for 30 minutes, a radiation therapist came out and informed us that the machine was down. Weird. I didn't think a machine that important to so many people was allowed to take a day off. So now I have three treatments left. Monday.Tuesday.Wednesday. I can do this. Pain and hunger are both relative, right?