So I am back in Seward ... since I have a nasty cold, they wouldn't do the surgery to place my mediport yesterday (I should probably have written "flatly refused," because I spent some time trying to persuade the surgeon to go ahead and do it). The surgeon said that if I had the surgery, the chances of my body getting an ugly infection was far greater if I had a cold. And since I just changed oncologists, my first chemo treatment is also waylaid, along with the mandatory "cancer training" and my participation in the "chemo brain" study.
At the end of the day, the only thing I was able to get done was the heart test. One test. So much for one-stop shopping!
While the surgeon was explaining to me what's involved with a mediport, I actually started to pass out. I could not believe I was acting like this - me, the cop's wife! Me, the former reporter with the crime beat who actually yearned to see a real-deal dead body. But when I learned the particulars of how the mediport was going to be inserted and how that involved my heart ... well, let's just say the surgeon noticed my shade of green pretty quick and suggested I get horizontal in a hurry.
Part of me is glad for the reprieve with the surgery and related chemo, but the rest of me is totally bummed that the good ship M.V. Treatment is not underway. I had a moment in Michaels where I had a bit of meltdown - I was so disappointed to have traveled all that way and not have started, but I am pretty much over it now. I know that God has a purpose in all things, and this timing is no accident. And besides that, I would rather not be known as the person who kicked it as a result of being stubborn about a sinus infection.
On a bright note, the girls did a spectacular job of sleeping in a strange place and making the drive up and back. I am certain that this directly correlates to them making this trip five times in one month - that's 25 hours of time commuting to Anchorage and back these last four weeks - aye carumba indeed!
Rebbeca, just wanted to pass on a long forgotten memory of ME watching my 14 yar old daughter have her 3Xweekly dialysis the first time. I knew (or rather thought) this was going to be a process we would be doing at home (ALONE!) and I could feel the blood draining from my face. I immediately put my head down between my knees to self-revive. I've had plenty of experience with that little manuevre whenever my children had an emergencies. I recognize it as Panic, plain out and out panic. I don't know if I'm going to be able to do that. In those days, we had no other option. BUT AS YOU KNOW, GOD IS GOOD. And HE COMES THROUGH WHEN WE MOST NEED HIM. As it turnes out I got to be the donor for her Transplant. And 3 can you believe THREE people volunteered to let her live with them for the 3 months preceeding the operation. I thought that it was very significan that her operation was the day after Easter Sunday. It was like a born-again child to me. Diana was 14 at that time and her transplant lasted 32 years. They had to remove it a couple of years ago, and at that time Diana asked Jesus to come into her heart. Hallelujah! Amen! Glory to God.
ReplyDeleteIt could possibly get better, but I don't know how.
Love to you all, Aunt Pat