Any Port in a Storm

I now realize many people have, or have had, ports – but I was totally ignorant of them before getting one myself. If you’re the curious sort, here’s what I’ve learned.

The port is the size of a quarter, only thicker, and is attached to a soft, flexible tube about 8 inches long. The port is placed under the skin through an incision about 1.5 inches long, the opening of the port “pocket.” A second, smaller incision is made a few inches above the pocket where the surgeon inserts the tube into the large subclavian vein under the clavicle. The tube then continues inside the vein, ending just before the vein enters the heart’s right atrium.

The procedure was painless (with numbing). I was awake, with a small dose of drugs for relaxing. (My male nurse called it the equivalent of a “couple of beers.”) Fortunately, and I’m sure by design, the surgical team’s banter was entertaining so I didn’t concentrate on the sounds of snipping and sopping and such. I also had a “tent” over my face to prevent splattering (?) and keep me from catching sight of the goings on.

I was in the surgical room less than half an hour, most of which was prepping. Afterward there was an x-ray to check for proper placement and to make sure no fluid had escaped into the lungs.

Back at home, the freezing wore off in 4-5 hours and I felt as though I’d been shot in the shoulder with the bullet left protruding just under the skin. (I could empathize with grandson Sammy who had surgery to place a medicine pump the size of a tuna can in his lower abdomen. Ouch!)

The next morning, port site extremely tender and a bit swollen, I reported to the Cancer Center for my every-3-weeks Herceptin infusion. Typically before starting there’s a blood draw in the lab to see if blood counts are okay. Now that I had a port, however, the phlebotomist sent me to the chemo nurses who would have a go at drawing blood through my “fresh” port instead.

Off came the gauze, and with one hand behind my shoulder to hold my torso rigidly in place, the nurse came at me from the front with a force great enough to break the tender skin and properly enter the virgin port. The pain nearly sent me through the ceiling! She apologized and explained that usually the port is placed just minutes before it’s used the first time – so the needle goes in when the site is still frozen. For whatever reason, I had the misfortune of having this done when freezing was long gone. Fortuntely the same needle that drew blood would serve to deliver the Herceptin, so I only had to be tortured once.

Blood counts showed anemia again, but until I slip a notch or two lower, insurance won’t cover the cost ($3500) of the shot for boosting red cell production. I was told that eating red meat might help, but more likely chemo was still preventing me from producing adequate red blood cells, so time will tell.

Herceptin infusion went well; now that it’s administered through the port into a much larger vein, it took only half as long to pour it in; no noticeable side effects so far.

Tomorrow’s Thanksgiving and I look forward to hanging out with Josh, Brenda and the boys. Then Friday I have an apointment with an oral surgeon to have my problem molar extracted in time to heal a bit before radiation starts on Monday. Taking care of me is almost a full-time job. I’d rather be shlepping used books.