Shortly after my all-clear visit in March, I made arrangements to have my beloved-yet-hated port removed. Although it can stay inside a body for years and years without causing any trouble (as long as you are diligent about getting it flushed out every six months to prevent clogging), I was assured by my oncologist that in the (hopefully very slight, and by that I mean zero) chance that I need a port again to get infusions of heinous meds, I can have the port put back in place.
I have to say, the removal process didn't leave me as impressed as the implantation process. For starters, the doc who put it in did such a lovely and careful job that, once the incision healed, it really was as well done as anyone could hope for; however, I can't really say that about the scar I have now. In fact, what it reminded me of at first was someone who is making a pie crust and, instead of taking the time and care to cut away the excess crust, simply mashed it in an overlapping fashion to fit the pie plate. In case you didn't follow that, I am meaning that my skin is raw pie dough, and instead of making some nice edges, he just...smooshed? Maybe I'm expecting too much, maybe I am talking out of my tush because I am totally NOT a surgeon (really? you aren't?), maybe I'm just bitter because my planned post-cancer career of being an upper right chest model was cut short before it began. I realize we all are hypercritical of ourselves and magnify flaws in a way that is unrealistic, but you can see for yourself:
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| Can you even see the scar under the port? That's before the removal. |
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| Ouch. Bruised from yanking that port out. |
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| I suppose as long as I don't walk around and point at it, no one but me will notice! |
Also, if I'm going to be critical, I might as well go all the way. When they wheeled me from prep to the operating room, they parked me for a bit outside the room while they...did whatever they needed to do. But they parked me in this narrow little space next to a wall adjacent to the trash and biohazard bins. Close enough that, had I wanted to, I could put my arm outside the gurney and open the lid without stretching my arm or turning my body. I mean, wow. Maybe I wasn't supposed to notice? But it was like being seated at a restaurant table and finding yourself right next to the bathroom. Not appetizing. Not really the presurgical environment I felt good about being in. And I also felt a wee bit ripped off by my Twilight Sleep. As in there was too much twilight and not enough sleep. I was expecting the awesome propophol experience and wow, I've got to say, there must have been a metric ton of scar tissue to deal with because the yanking, pressing and, in general, DISTURBING MY SLEEP that went on was certainly not what I was looking forward to going into the procedure. (I was actually feeling irked that I was being disturbed while this was going on, which tells you how much I dearly love my sleep.) But done is done, I'm happy not to be reminded anymore of my port every time my sports bra rubbed against it. I partied with Mederma for a few months, and it is as good as it's going to get. Small price to pay, really. (As they were rousing me out of the non-sleep state, I asked to see the port. They said they had already thrown it away. I responded that I had really hoped to see it. So they fished it out and held it up for me. And I blew it a kiss and said, "Bye bye, port.")
Since August I've been dealing with a recurring eye condition called iritis (an inflammation of the colored part of your eye). It's painful, makes you sensitive to light, gives you a WICKED eye/headache, not fun. (AND, in time for Halloween, it makes the white of your eye so bloodshot that it appears red. Gruesome.) Anyway, my cornea specialist said there is no specific cause, it's just a thing that can hit you at least once in your life, the whole "beauty of getting older you are around long enough to have weird maladies" syndrome. But if you are hit with iritis more than once, they start to wonder if possible immune system factors are at play.
Yeah. I had that ding-ding-ding red alert thought come into my head as well.
The third time it popped up I called my Supermodel Oncologist to leave a message and bring her into the information loop. She decided, just to be on the safe side, to move my scheduled March CT scan to December. I just saw her in September and had excellent blood work again at the time.
And my specialist says that, if the iritis were somehow being triggered by a recurrence of lymphoma, he would expect to see a different type of cell in my eye, and he would also expect to see it in both eyes rather than one (Lisa "Left-Eye" Lopes, shout out).
Since cancer treatment, my white cell count has consistently been on the low side, but it's not anything my oncologist hasn't expected. So perhaps I am now more prone to picking up yucky health crap and/or having a harder time fighting it off.
So we've done steroid eye drops, we've done steroid eye drops combined with oral steroids, and now (drumroll please), I do believe that on Tuesday I will have a steroid injection IN MY EYE! Ick! Eeew! Yuck! Blech! Yes, after everything else I've experienced, this one freaks me the heck out! Don't you remember the pledge from childhood: "Swear to God, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye!" That was serious juju as a kid because the needle in the eye part was always worse than the dying part to me!
To end on a good note, I'm feeling (aside from the eye) really great! My sister cajoled me into training to run a 5K and, although my progress has been tremendously slow since February, I can now run (walk with a bounce?) for 25 minutes straight (as opposed to the 1 minute I could barely do without stopping for a walk interval when I began). My upper left lung sometimes hurts when I run, and I find my breathing is adversely affected by poor air quality or any inflammatory foods I might have eaten the evening before a run. But the fact that I am here on the planet to lumber along and sweat up a storm is something I always celebrate.
I leave you with a photo of me and my Gorgeous Oncologist at my September appointment. Isn't she a beauty?!?
