Port-less!

Hi Team,

I felt a bit melodramatic after posting that last post, as it actually is a fairly routine procedure, and everything went just fine.  Although I have to say, it didn't hurt that I took a few valium.

So I went into the Dr.'s office and they cleaned the area and gave me a few local anesthesia shots in my chest near my port (you know, like when you get a filling in your tooth) and then chiseled away at it for a while - 2 hours exactly, to get it out.  She said my body had quite taken a liking to the thing, since normally it only takes a half hour to take out - and normally only one incision but she had to make two, one where the port was and one near my jugular vein to pull it out of the vein.  But all in all, not bad.  I got to hear all about my surgeon's recent trip to the south of France and her restaurant recommendations for my upcoming trip to Chicago.  Overall quite a nice chat, although I would have preferred that we do it over a glass of wine than with me on an operating table. 

I did, on the suggestion of one of my friends, ask if I could take it home.  She said no, they have to send it back somewhere since it's a medical device.  I told her, I wanted to used it as a paperweight.  To which she said, it's not really heavy enough for that.  I told her I don't really  use that much paper, working at an internet company.  She said, it would probably be better to make a bracelet out of it.  What a great suggestion!  Anyway, I didn't get it - but I did get a picture of it!  This is the actual port that was in my body, giving me all that chemo and herceptin treatments.  Whew.  So, I am now port-less.  Yay!

Love,

Amy

Another Milestone

Hi Team,

I was going to try to just fly on by, but my introspective nature has once again stopped me in my tracks.  I get my port out tomorrow!  A few fun flashbacks for you.  I remember when my oncologist told me I'd be starting chemotherapy and I might want to consider a port.  I thought to myself (internally) 'that's not necessary.'  My chemo is going to be quick and I will be done before I know it.  Fast forward an f-ing week to me checked into the kaiser hospital taking half a liter of blood every 12 hours and stabbing me in every possible corner trying to find a good vein.  I felt like a pin cushion!  I was so happy to get discharged and once my white blood cells were high enough my first order of business was to get a port. 

Going in to get a port was the first time I'd been checked in to an actual hospital.  The nurse put an IV in me, then Dr. Fisch asked me to sign a form that said I had "informed consent" about this surgery - although he proceeded to inform me that he didn't really believe in informed consent.  To which I didn't ask any further questions because I wasn't sure I wanted to know.  This in retrospect was the first bad sign.  Then the nurse proceeded to ask me if I have an advance directive.  Ie. A legal document that tells people what to do with you if you either become a vegetable or die.  Let me tell you, if you DON'T have an advance directive, or like me, didn't have any clue what that was, it is not reassuring to be asked that 2 minutes before they put some serious drugs in you and start cutting.  That said, they drugged me up with a great drung called versed which is supposed to be an anti-anxiety and amnesia-enducing drug.  Unfortunately, I remember.  As the dr. first cut into me, I could feel it, and I cried.  And I remember the nurses gathering around and giving me another few doses of versed, probably enough to sedate a grizzly bear, and me dozing off into a weird state of semi-consciousness.  I woke up as I was getting moved off the operating table, and told them, Thank you for fixing that - that was really bad at first but you did a good job.  They said, I'm glad  you remember it that way.

Fast forward to about a month ago in Dr. Langer's office, my surgeon, I was there for a check up and she says - now that you're done with all your IV treatment, you can get your port out.  Just schedule a regular appointment in my office and I'll take it out.  Now, please note that a port is a small peice of metal and silicone in my chest with a tube going into my jugular vein for administering IV medication.

I said to Dr. Langer.  "Ok, uhm, just in your office?  I don't need to go to the hospital?" She says - no, it will be fine we'll just do it here.  To which I say, ok here is what I'm envisioning, you tell me what you think.  Dr. cuts open my chest and pulls my port out of my jugular vein and my neck goes spurting blood all over the doctor's office, Kill Bill style.  She said, don't worry - that's not going to happen.  Your body will clot it, and plus, you've been through far worse.  Famous not-encouraging words.  Although I guess I appreciate the effort.

Anyway, tomorrow is another milestone.  I'm excited and scared.  It's amazing to me that even after everything I've been through, I am still scared of something relatively little like this - and that I somehow think I am just going to take a bus there, 2 valium to get through, and a cab home.  Thank God for my friends that call me out on my bullshit and make me ask for support.  You would think by now it would come more naturally!  Either way, its exciting stuff because it's one more step to putting all this behind me.

Love,
Amy

Fun and Morbidity

Hi Team -

I did like the idea of just ending this chapter of my life and 'riding off into the sunset' with my happy ending, but let's be honest.  You can't just decide a chapter is done and that's it.  There's so much more to tell!  So I decided to keep sharing. 

For the last few months I've been throwing myself into my new job, working hard and playing hard.  I love my new team and my new company (and I'm not just saying that because they might read this) although I do miss the people I used to work with, it has really done wonders for my mind to be in this new job.  I actually thought last year that maybe chemo had just killed a bunch of brain cells and I just didn't have the capacity to be as sharp as I was before... this new job has forced me to wake up, pay attention and learn something new. And, I'm doing it!  It feels great to have a mental accomplishment when I felt so dried up mentally for so long. It still takes me longer to think of people's names and brain farts come more often than they used to, but maybe I can just blame that on getting older.

 




 Back in October 2010, the month after my bilateral mastectomy, after my ex-boyfriend had just broken up with me, and I was still bald and feeling not very feminine or happy, I decided to book myself a trip to Costa Rica to have something to look forward to.  Well, in May, I went - to Costa Rica and Panama.  My mom went with me to Panama and 3 of my closest friends went with me to Costa Rica. 

Some highlights:
- 'Alitos de Bufalo' on a restaurant menu is not some fancy buffalo dish, but rather buffalo wings (ie. chicken)
- When teaching a first time surfer (me) how to stand up on a surf board, the high-pressure "GO! NOW!, Don't Wait When I say GO" does not actually work

- Apparently Panama has the world's best coffee, I did not hear about this growing up in Kona (also the world's best coffee)

- Marriage ritual for Kuna Indians:  The man goes running off hiding in the town and his friends find him and drag him kicking and screaming into the woman's house where they have the marriage ceremony and he then assimilates into her family.  How realistic of them. 

- Crabs are only cute when there are only a few of them on the porch, not hundreds covering the street when you are trying to walk home









Another experience on my recent trip made me very aware of a new world view I seem to be developing in a strong way.  It's slightly morbid, but in my opinion, realistic.  It doesn't depress me, but rather motivates me!  Mom and I were flying from Panama City to the San Blas Archeapelago and we got on a plane that had 8 seats at the most - Mom says "We all get window seats!"  It was a little plane and a bumpy ride, and I thought to myself, 'hmmm I wonder if this is how I die.'  Not in the scared way of 'ohmygod I'm going to die' but more like, well, I'm going to die at some point - it wasn't in 2010 from breast cancer, I wonder if it's in 2011 from a plane crash.  Well, it wasn't (so far).  I guess it's more the discovery of the concept that it is inevitable and could be at any time - we envision growing old with our families and eventually dying in a hospital bed with your children, grandchildren, etc all there holding your hand.  I don't think that's how it goes for most people.  My uncle died suddenly while scuba diving.  My best friend in college died suddenly in a car accident.  My great grandmother lived to be 102 (I think, I kind of lost track at one point) - A different uncle was telling me recently that his daughter is turning 30 and freaking out about it.   My immediate response, just popped out of my mouth before I could sensor it (although I don't think I would have anyway), was "She should be glad she made it that far." 

Anyway, my point is, you never know, but that can be a positive motivating thing.  I now get in my car and think almost every time, I am more likely to die in a car accident than of breast cancer.  It's oddly empowering to me to be able to think these things and not be afraid of them.  It allows me, for example, to not feel bad for opening a good bottle of wine just to have a glass by myself with dinner.  Or push myself until I feel like throwing up at my spin class - because why not.  Knowing that a beach is the #4 most shark infested beach in the world (Beach at Bolinas, thank you Dave for the jeapordy fact), does not make me want to get out of the water.  Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not reckless.  I went through chemo and fought for my life, I didn't do all that for nothing - I do highly value my time, but I am also weirdly/acutely aware that this time is limited.  I hope I keep that sense for a very long time.  I enjoy it. 

Love,

Amy