Appointment today and feeling okay

Dear Friends and Fellow Blogerites:

As you know, my body -- this temple handed down by the Gods, sculpted in the fires of the um, er, ah Delaware Department of Labor, and crafted with keen sense of artistry and detail -- is supposed to turn on me as my chemistry changes from the chemotherapy. So far I’m okay; a little achy is all.

I don’t want to count too many chickens too soon, but fingers crossed, maybe it won’t get worse than this. That would be great.

Headed to the doctor today for a quick shot of chemo in my head. I have a little anxiety about that – not because they’re putting the chemo in my head, but the last time they had to jab my scalp about 30 times with needle trying to find the port for the Ommaya Reservoir.

If you remember, they installed this port thing a week or so ago to help distribute the chemo in my brain and through my spine to the lymphatic system. Anyway it turns out that accessing Ommaya is like putting the air pump and needle in a basketball or football. Unlike a basketball, the access port is beneath the skin so you either have to know where it is, or you have to go looking for it. Looking for it means feel for it, find it, and jab a needle into it to distribute the chemo.

My doc had to go looking for it last time.

The story goes kind of like this. After taking about unsuccessful15 jabs at it, my doctor called the surgeon who installed this thing and asked for help. The surgeon comes in to save the day and he too begins a jab and poke fest – with no luck.

After about 45 minutes of this the doctor says, “Well nothing we can do now. It’s too swollen. I guess we’ll try again tomorrow.”

I am a little angry after all this.

“Suppose we can’t get this thing to work?” I ask.

“Then we’ll have to go in and replace it,” he said. “But it would be a lot easier this time.”

Kind of stunned, I just grunt some type of assent and he leaves

The next morning the Physician’s Assistant who works for the surgeon stops by and she start fiddling with it.

“Well let’s get this thing in,” she says.

“Hold on a second,” I said. “This isn’t gong to be like Excalibur, where every person in a pair of scrubs comes by to see who the rightful King of doctors is by taking a poke at my head.”

“Listen, I’m here, I see it, and we get this done.”

Finally I relent and let her have at it – she gets one shot.

She takes the syringe, gently touches my scalp, and inserts the needle into the port as easy as can be.

It’s done. I told my doc to make sure we know where this PA is and to call if there is any problem at all.

When the surgeon came in I started giving the PA accolades and he took an attitude like “Well, I loosened the jar for her.”

That’s it for now.

Peace to all

Bill

Lat year's Blizzard. I'll get more current photos ASAP