Port prepared to party

Okay, so yesterday's visit to VGH re the faulty port-a-cath was something of a bust (if you'll pardon the expression). Apparently there is absolutely nothing wrong with the device. The surgeon prepped me for surgery - to replace it with a new port - but before giving me any anesthetic (other than the pre-op stuff that isn't Valium but that other thing) he thought he'd try the port's function for himself. He had no trouble accessing it, flushing it, nor getting flash-back. In fact, he did it twice without a problem. Conclusion: either the nurses at St Mary's aren't familiar with the newer ports, or there was a block or kink in the line, or the area was still too swollen when it was first tried to get a straight stab at it and multiple stabbing attempts only made matters worse. Soooo, I took up the time of several hospital staff members, de-sterilized dozens of surgical tools, dirtied sheets and gowns, and sported the highly flattering iodine wash about my neck and upper torso for nothing. AND Marjorie Ann and I got up at 5/6am and traveled to Vancouver for a fool's errand. But we did have a lovely visit. And we popped by Donna's en route to the hospital to pick up some tile samples for my bathroom, and Marjorie Ann got some minor shopping in. So it wasn't a total waste of time.


Andy Warhol was right. I did bask in my 15min of fame. Apparently faulty ports (the sort that won't allow access) are such a rare thing, at least with the newer models, that I had all manner of cath lab staff stopping by to chat about my visiting twice in three weeks. I explained that I had enjoyed my time there on April 7 so much, I felt the need to return and catch up with everyone like we were instant BFFs. Given the timing of my appointment (12 noon), they asked if I had thought to bring them lunch. After admitting that I had other things on my mind en route in, one nurse with a twinkle in her eye said she would find a way to get me out of there sooner rather than later - in her pre-lunch break opinion, no cookies or other goodies = no service. She must have worked a minor miracle. Not only did her good vibes get the port working, but I was in and out of the cath lab in record time. Next time I'm in the area, I'll have to drop off a veggie tray and a cookie or two.

Some useful info gathered: In addition to the usual "pink slip", the Cancer Agency is now issuing letters asking BC Ferries to give priority boarding to treatment patients. Yes, you're last off, but you do get a handy spot next to the elevator. This proved to be quite useful as the stress of thinking I would have something ripped from my chest only to have it replaced with another potentially faulty device seemed to manifest in the feeling that my leg was catching whenever I took a step. When I got home I discovered my leg was indeed catching on something. Seems I hadn't removed all the sticky little patches that connect those monitor lines to me bod. One was catching on the inside of my jeans. Apparently I was too numb with delight at not having to go under the knife that I hadn't figured out what was happening until then. Needless to say my face was as red as my neck and chest when I realized what was going on.