Cath won't party

There I was, skipping into St. Mary's Hospital with my spiffy new Bard Power Port. I had the world by the tail, and was kinda looking forward to getting the chemo stuff underway after a month of waiting. Yesterday's weigh in and blood test had gone well, and the results of last week's MUGA scan were also favourable. The staff on the Ambulatory Care Unit were their usual pleasant selves - we chatted about knitting (a conversation initiated by the mitten project I brought along and a book called "Knit Two" that another patient was reading). The sun was out. I was basking in the lingering scent of the blossoms on the meyer lemon tree that I bought yesterday.

I took a minute to get reacquainted with my ol' pal IV. She is looking as tall and slim atop her shiny new pole, and I knew her constant purring would provide a soothing backdrop to the treatment time. Even though I didn't have any Emla cream to apply to the port before the nurse inserted the catheter, the "pin prick" was of little consequence and the line seemed happily engaged. That is until Cath Bard Port decided to stop playing.

My first clue that something was amiss came about 5 minutes after the chemo drip was started. There was noticeable swelling around the port site, and the surrounding area was warm. IV hadn't bothered to notify anyone as the drip kept going but the drug was going to the tissue rather than through the vein. Despite the valiant efforts of two nurses, four subsequent attempts to get a new line working through the port failed to produce a favourable results. Ghosts of treatments past! (This is what happened just before it was decided that the port used during my chemo treatments of two years ago was no longer functioning and had to be removed.) The nurses then tried the two most likely veins in my forearm. Neither vein would allow the line to thread - it was thought that vein valves were blocking the route. In the end, the vein on the inside of my elbow, the one commonly used for blood tests was used. IV spent the remainder of the session purring away while Cath went into bruise recovery mode. Only thing worse than all of this was the "food" presented to me at lunch time - everyone in the treatment room (including a fellow who was in for diabetes treatment not chemo) voted the chocolate brownie the best thing on the tray. Nobody ate much of the macaroni/ground beef whatever it was, and the finely diced turnip was too cold to be consumed even if I had wanted it.

Looking forward to a visit from Wendy Humphreys-Tubbet tomorrow. She will be giving me "specialized kinesiology" sessions to help me better deal with the side effects of the chemo and to help my body better accept the drug. I'll also be hearing from a consultant at Vancouver Coastal Health who is setting up home care for my mother - and will be helping arrange the same for me.

Have a craving for a roasted soy nut butter and marmalade sandwich (marmalade is made by Jon - he adds a generous bit of Scotch to the batch. YUM!) and then back to bed. I'm sure I will feel much better after I've had a decent nap. Or two.