Stick It To Me

This morning was a doozy.

Today I went in to get my blood drawn via my port to ensure I can safely have Chemo No. 2 in two days. Because that's a specialized blood draw, an ER nurse has to do it. It still freaked me out quite a bit - having a port is bizarre and surreal to me anyways - so I told a variety of hospital staff, "Seriously - I'm really OK with just having it drawn from my arm!"

So it was some sweet irony indeed when, after two failed attempts to use the port, my arm had to be stuck anyways.

Earlier in the morning, I applied special prescription numbing cream to my port area. Imagine my surprise when it HURT - like a MOTHER, people. Thankfully, that lasted just a couple seconds. But then - no blood. The nurse was very kind - so sweet and apologetic as she tried for several minutes. Then I wanted to slap myself - I remembered that a second try had been necessary for my first chemo because they needed a longer, one-inch needle.

My nurse extracted the needle and went hunting for several minutes. Finally, she came in with another pack of supplies that contained a bigger sticker. I wondered how much money each of these sealed bags of supplies represented; the Neulasta shot I receive after my first four chemo appointments is more than $4,000 each. One of my ongoing prayers has been: Thank you, Lord Jesus, for supplying my husband with a job that has health insurance.

Back on the table, the nurse attempted another go with the bigger needle. Thankfully, the pain was less - maybe because I was ready for it? But still no blood. The nurse was very apologetic. Meanwhile, I was doing my best to keep my internal freakout on the down low. What if the chemo nurses on Friday can't access my port for my treatment? Did I get a port in my chest for nothing? Will I need another surgery to correct this? Will I now require being stuck in the arm an obscene number of times for future pre-chemo blood work?

And yet ... the toughest part of all of this was that 3-year-old Bella was with me. Every so often, she would say, in her brave, unwavering little voice, "I love you, momma." If I had had any clue that this was going to be anything but routine, I would have found someone to watch her. As it was, we were in there for almost two hours. She was a little rock.

I called the oncologist's office when I got home, and they were very reassuring. The gal on the phone said it was most likely a blood clot that can be easily fixed with meds that are administered pre-chemo.

"Blood clot," I said. "Like, one that could kill me?"

She said no - and managed to sound very light hearted when she said it, adding that this scenario (no blood from the port) actually happens quite a lot.

In other news, I started a 2.5-day fast today - only water - after learning that there is interesting research that indicates it helps the chemo work better (check it out here) I checked with my oncologist directly before starting this - he confirmed that he had heard about this research, and that he was "OK" with me fasting.

However, I must confess this was not the reaction I was hoping to get. I like to eat - so I was more hoping for something like, "Do NOT fast. Keep your strength up! Eat wisely! But hey - as a cancer patient, you're entitled to a chocolate-almond Haggan-Daz bar every now and then."