This poor guy I married has had a YEAR. A month ago today he had hernia surgery on both his right and left side. He's healed really well, but during what was supposed to be his recovery time I decided to have a medical misadventure. That's a couple posts after this one. He managed to take it in stride and is an excellent caretaker, far better than I am, and is doing very well. Yesterday he experienced his first sneeze in almost a month that didn't hurt, so hooray for progress!
Since he likes surprises, and I don't, I figured it would be fun to plan a secret with a friend who quilts. No, I will not give out her number. She's mine. You can't have her. 😉 She graciously accepted all my bins and boxes of old jeans and Tshirts and a certain pink ("LIGHT RED!") Ohio State sweatshirt and turned them into magic.
While he may have known a quilt was coming, none of us knew the timeline, nor how incredible it would turn out. Look at his delight:
She asked what our favorite colors are and I told her green for me and purple for him. She said it turned into truly a reversible quilt and was almost as excited by the back, above, as she was about the real thing, below:
For those of you late to knowing us, I am a Nittany Lion from Penn State whilst he is an Ohio State Buckeye. We met at a church camp in Pennsylvania- hence all the camp staff shirts bearing CAPNWP- the Camping Association of the Presbyteries of Northwestern Pennsylvania. Talk about getting a new lease on life. Some of those shirts are from high school, many from camp and college when we were dating and engaged, and a few from our married life together.
Thank you, sweet friend, for a most outstanding legacy gift that we are loving snuggling under at night. Thanks for using your gifts and talents on our behalf, and for you and your hubby's friendship to the two of us. We really appreciate you!
And for my sweet, most elite of husbands, thanks for being you, for covering everything and then some with your vows, and for loving me beyond my ability to imagine. What a wild ride! Love you!
Morning of Nov 10. Neither Thing Three nor I were quite pleased to be hanging out at the bus stop in the first snow of the season. I had JUST gotten the snow sticks inserted down the driveway because it was still warm enough to do it comfortably and the ground wasn't frozen and uncooperative yet. Whether it would have snowed had I not stuck them in is a mystery we shall never unravel.
Morning of Nov 9
November 8. I love that red bush of our neighbors'. It just blazes away cheerfully amidst everything else.
Both of these were Nov 7. I thought about how pretty the colors were and how many oak leaves we still have.
I've been procrastinating on buying new pants, but I thought I'd try some on a few weeks ago and figured I might as well check out the high waisted kind that everyone seems to be raving about.
Well...
Nothing wanted to go home with ME. Some of them looked like maternity pants on me and I don't know if that's because of middle age and hormones or because I have no boobs to break up my front so you don't just see belly or what, but I felt like they all made me look like Boss Hogg.
Some sister somewhere is just gonna have to show me how to do it right! Let's see some photos of all y'all rocking new pants!
You'd never know it now, but this guy used to be chubby. He was a round little pumpkin briefly, this Halloween kid of ours. Now he lays low, pretending he's nothing more than a skellie, stays out of sight, our introvert. His birthday card said something about "wishing you a birthday where people leave you the hello alone" or some such. He loved it.
Since he will move out SOMEDAY and everyone needs magnets for their fridge, he got cute Halloween ones from our local artsy festival. Dada found him a new-to-him pocket watch which winds to replace the one he accidentally washed. In the washer.
Two decades old or not, Thing Two has already been overtaken by Thing Three, who is passing us up left and right in the height department. When we saw HIS feet on an ultrasound in utero, we knew he'd be big. Thing Two just laughed and flipped his hair, doesn't care.
He also wanted a weighted blanket, which he got thanks to Dada and his estate sale fetish. He's a happy boy!
Could it be possible that we tie you out so that you DON'T get into prickly seeds like a big dummy?! I swear this dog can't be trusted any further than we could yeet him...
Boy, have I got a humdinger of a story for all y'all. It's long, though, so grab some snacks and settle in.
Once upon a time (actually, twice, but who's counting?), a gal had a medical port inserted to save the veins in her arms from being jabbed during the upcoming months of chemo. A port is a medical device with a catheter leading into a large vein right above your heart. It sits just under your skin and sticks up like a raised bubble about the size of a nickel. That way the docs and poke one spot to draw blood AND to insert IV dripping meds. It's especially helpful as nothing is supposed to happen to my right arm, meaning no blood pressure cuffs or blood draws or anything because of the threat of lymphedema (fluid retention). It does both jobs, in and out. However, my port decided this:
It broke away from the main section and lodged in the center of my chest. When, we don't know for sure. It worked fine in August and did not work in October. I had most of it removed last Monday, but this piece stayed behind:
Thing Two observed, "you have a straw in your sternum. Last time I checked, you are not a Capri Sun."
Yes. Well.
It so happened that I had follow up appointments scheduled in the big city later in the week. We told Dr. A, the surgeon who did my lymph node removal surgery last fall, about the stinkin' port escape and she ordered another chest Xray (above) and then informed us that she STRONGLY urged us to not go back home, but to be admitted for a procedure to get the escapee out.
So we stayed in the hospital overnight after the follow up appointments, one of which was physical therapy involving dry needling. Now, one would think with my history of needles that even the phrase "dry needling" would send me for the hills. However, it was amazing. She must have stuck 6-8 in me, I lost track, and it's not all at once, but one at a time into the most tender and tight spots on my shoulder, chest, pec, armpit area. The needle causes micro tears which the body then fixes with fresh, new, loose tissue instead of the stuck together scar tissue that's causing the tightness. It's amazing! You can feel the release as the knots kind of dissolve. The timing was perfect too, because she released a ton of the tension in the right side of my neck. (That will be important later.)
So here's me in my fashionable gown with my heart monitor on and my ... whatever the thing on my finger even did... but I was saying, "ouuuuuuuch" like ET in the movie, hehe!
To review, one of the port's two jobs is to draw blood. Here's me, needing an IV to draw blood because the stupid port is busted and needs rescued! Gah! However, thank you, Bradley, the expert needle inserter who got it on the first try. Bless you!
So we meet with the surgeon and some of his team who will be doing the procedure. He tells us that it entails inserting a catheter into either my groin or my neck, hopefully my groin as it is a straighter shot, and then snaking that catheter up through my blood vessels, in through my heart, and into my pulmonary artery heading into my lungs where this stray piece is lodged.
Sorry, come again? This is the first time anybody confirmed that it's actually in my lungs. What?! It's through part of my heart? Oh my stars.
*Raising hand, essentially* What happens if this doesn't work and you can't lasso it?
"Well, then you'll need surgery."
Yeah, like, what kind? To what extent?
"We'd need to crack your chest."
YOU GUYS. THIS WAS NOT ON MY BINGO CARD FOR 2025!
So we prep ourselves for a potentially multiple hour surgery and off I go. I'd had nothing by mouth for over 15 hours and felt like my brain was a raisin. I begged every nurse I saw for fluids all day. Mercifully, they gave me two bags with the gentle anesthesia in my IV, but I remained awake and aware in there, which is also kind of wild when you think about it.
They swabbed both my neck and my groin with- I'm pretty sure it was Bactricide, which make me laugh because that's what we cleaned bathrooms with at camp- because I'm allergic to some of those pre-surgical cleansers and break out in hives. They got me all draped in the snazzy blue paper tenting for their sterile field and told me to turn my head to the left. My thought was, "ohhhhh dear. This could be terrible." My stress has always gone into a knot on my right shoulder near my neck, so that's tight even when life is good. By turning my neck to the left, that is going to compress the muscles on that left side, stretch the ones on the right, and if they have to insert another catheter in the right side of my neck where they're prepping, BOTH sides of my neck are going to be killing me. GOOD THING I'D HAD PT AND THE DRY NEEDLING! So I turned my head to the left like I was told and hoped for the best. Remember, we'd been told it could potentially take hours.
The worst part was actually the stabs of the anesthesia (Lidocaine) going into my groin. Three times. For the love of everything that is holy, WHY do people using that stuff not rub some kind of numbing agent on first and THEN stab you? Holy moly. I mean life goes on, but still! Have mercy.
The team is all in those huge aprons to prevent them from absorbing radiation with their paper gowns over them because they'd be using live xray to track down that piece so they'd know exactly where and when to snag it. Apparently it's called, "flouroscopy"- you can Google that. So that big boxy machine was right over my chest, with my head still turned to the left, with most everyone on my right side. Not gonna lie, there were few moments when I felt a big claustrophobic, but I could still see some other folks moving around and I could hear them and they WOULD talk to me when I asked something, so I hung in there.
I had two distinct thoughts about the whole thing:
One, is God greater than the focus of my fears? That was a question from a sermon several months ago that has really resonated with me. It's a resounding yes for me. I don't know why, but I'm often surprised to discover that it's true. Again and again, He is faithful.
Two, well, if He calls me home right now, at least everybody knows I love them!
This surgeon, Dr M, likes wordless music while he's working, so there's me and the crew, chatting about John Williams and "is this from Star Wars?" I heard some from the Lord of the Rings trilogy, more Star Wars, and so on. It was delightful!
At one point, I asked, "should I be feeling pressure in my throat?" I was assured that yes, that was fine, because he was snaking his tube around and that is exactly where I would be feeling something. Whew.
Then suddenly, everyone is excited and I hear, "twenty-one minutes!" You guys, this team got that sucker out in 21 minutes after prepping for it to take hours!
My sweet husband said when he got the call, he had time to think, "either this is really good news, or really bad news!"
The next two videos are for folks who enjoy doctor shows. You know who you are. Where are my House, M*A*S*H, ER, the Resident, Grey's Anatomy fans? This is the action part. The surgeon, Dr. M, had to time everything just right to lasso the moving part and drag it out of me!
This is the incision from my port removal last Monday. You can tell it's bruising up nicely, heh.
That tiny hole below is where they entered my groin to fetch that missing piece. Isn't that so crazy? It's itty bitty!
And THAT is the wayfaring troublemaker that caused this whole mess. You'll notice it is substantially larger than the 1.5 inches that we were originally told last week.
Tremendous thanks to Latifah, Aubrey, Kendra, Amber, Bradley, Dr. A, Dr. M, Amy, Krupen, Annie, Aaron, and the rest of the team whose names I either didn't know or forgot.
Thank you to my incredible tribe scattered everywhere from folks in the city who offered guest rooms to my poor, stressed out husband to the folks at home who were praying, not even knowing the extent or the seriousness of the whole situation. I have THE BEST tribe anywhere and you all bless us so much. Thanks for once again having our backs. We are putting in requests for no more medical adventures until I'm a little old lady!
And thanks to God, because who knows how long I'd been walking around with madmade materials in the middle of my heart yet He kept me fine and dandy. They say to worry about microplastics, but nobody warns you about the macroplastics that clearly are out to get you!
I don't even know how to relate this without .... I can't even. Words fail me. That makes blogging a teeny bit hard, haha. I'll give it my best.
Went in yesterday to have my port removed, which SHOULD be an "amen and hallelujah" situation because it means I'm done with all the major needlework and chemicals and all that.
I strip down to my waist and my paper... vest...
The surgeon comes in and tells me step one is numbing me up with multiple jabs. Think novacaine for your chest. Sure, fine, of course I get a little swimmy and a lot sweaty so I ask for a cold wash cloth behind my neck and I chew my gum and put my knees up and life goes on. I maintain consciousness, woohoo. Me, one point!
As I'm pointedly looking the opposite direction and the surgeon is happily scalpaling away and then calmly remarks, "huh. This should be longer."
Great.
"I have seen this before."
Fabulous.
"So, see this? It should be about an inch and a half longer."
This just keeps getting better.
"So, um, where would it go?"
"Well, could be heart or lungs. We will send you down for a chest Xray."
Okiedokie!
So downstairs we go to registration then to radiology. I get an upgrade to a fabric gown and get my front and side chest Xrays taken. The surgeon calls me immediately after I make it back into the waiting room to say, "Yep, I see it. My office will coordinate with Hospital X because unfortunately we don't do this here- you will need a radiology specialist to lasso it out."
Swell.
Somebody is going to lasso out my missing piece.
"It'll take longer than you'll want it to."
The setting up? The procedure itself? The recovery?
I tell people this story and they want to know why it isn't happening now, right this minute, yesterday, and the only thing I can come up with is
A) I'm still breathing- no shortness of breath or anything and
B) must have a regular enough heartbeat though nobody has asked about either of those things!
Apparently it was intact and worked for my PET scan in August but we know it wouldn't draw blood for my last oncology appointment in October. Has it been adventuring around this whole time? Who knows. Since I'm not experiencing pain anywhere other than the scar tissue/cording I am assuming it hasn't caused a clot anywhere, and he DID see it on my chest Xray. Does it stay put? Because I'm relatively active has it been just cruising along, making laps in my bloodstream? I've got some fun questions for whoever is going to lasso the darn thing!
I'll keep you posted! Put any port jokes into the comments.
'Tis the month of Thanksgiving, so our lead teacher began discussing why we celebrate that holiday in the first place. She took the kids back across the ocean to where people were boarding a boat called the Mayflower, how it took many weeks for the journey, how food began to run out, and how they finally arrived here.
