Worry not, here I am

Sorry for no post last night. Just too tired, i'm afraid. Busy days, yesterday and today.

Started right out at the specialties clinic to meet the doctor who is going to put my port in. He is a bit brusque, but clearly a fine, concert B-flat general surgeon. Fortunately brusque, but not cocky. He was quick to notice I am not a concert B-flat patient. More of a contrabasson solo written in Mixolidian mode. He went over everything quite thoroughly. Then he had us wait while he called down to anesthesia. For something as simple as a port, you don't usually meet with anesthesia. Well, not only do I get to meet with them, they are going to decide if I am still okay for the surgical center, or if I need to go to the regular OR. They wanted to send me right down, but that would have meant missing my Mia appointment. Not going to happen.

Off we went to Mia. I could not have been more floored when she told me Mary from Reno had called her and I had a gift certificate coming.  The gift of pain relief. Unbelievable. I would cry, except, as you well know, it makes my face hurt. Mia was able to coax my rib back in, quiet my back and shoulders and tone down the screaming in my right hand. I truly do not know how I would make it through this without her.

After Mia we headed back home for a quick lunch. Karina had afternoon plans, so Karissa got to come with us to the anesthesiologist. How fun. I had met with them before Karissa's surgery, so I knew the drill.  First the paperwork lady, then the nurse, then the anesthesiologist.  Do they have current blood work? When did I last have an EKG? Who did this surgery? When? Where? My you have a lot of allergies... Fortunately when I went to ER on the 16th, they drew blood, so that was good. My cardiologist was happy to fax over an EKG and ECHO and notes. Lots more questions. By the way, this is the second trach because the first one slipped. What? Oh, that might change things.

After such a fun time, we headed home and I collapsed into bed. I should have napped probably, but I didn't. Sandra brought delicious dinner and Ed brought flowers when picking up the mail. Our family has been so cared for. There have also been so many texts, instant messages, emails, etc. cheering me on. It really does keep me going.  I needed the cheering on, too, because the swelling continued and by Tuesday night I could scarcely get my left eye open. Because I need more attractive features.

After dinner I crawled into a bath. It is hard to find a comfortable position to accommodate the inflexible neck and all the squawking nerves. Also, I dare not get too relaxed because slipping too far down in the tub is a bad BAD idea. I was so relaxed when I came out, I only managed to stay awake long enough for meds.

I slept long and well, with few interruptions. Still, I don't exactly feel like springing out of bed. After all the hoopla with the port, I figured today was our only "free" day of break. Sara generously moved my hair cut to Friday so we were at least able to do one fun thing over break.

The wildlife park was a good plan because it didn't require walking. The animals are amazing! Riding in the car is really tough, though. My head doesn't go back, so my neck doesn't get a break unless I literally hold my head in my hands. I don't have a lot of mobility, so I didn't see all the things the others saw, but it was so nice to do something as a family. Karissa was, of course, thrilled. Upon examining the day, if I wasn't so swollen and felt better, it would have been a very fun outing for me and my ability to eat or speak didn't have much of an impact. There had to be a bit of drama at the end of the trip, or it wouldn't be me. Why? Why? Why? First, Karina and I went to the bathroom. I look scary, there is no way around it. I feel like I lost a fight to the "pain," as they say in the Princess Bride. Frightening little children is not a very nice feeling.

Also, my trach was feeling dry. Let's do a little fish. Well, that got things moving, but there was a problem. There is a big hunk of, for lack of a better word, lung butter stuck down there. Pulling the cannula didn't get it. I can breathe in just fine, but when I try to breathe out, the end of the trach gets covered by gunk. Slow panic rising. Kelly has to rip open a suction kit and try to break it up. He was successful, as the gunk sprayed all over the dash will attest, thank goodness. I was terrified. I don't want to die. I really don't want to die unexpectedly in front of my children. I really, really do not want to suffocate on my own lung junk in the parking lot of the wildlife place, surrounded by children who are already frightened by my appearance. It all seems a little too South Park to me.

By the time we got home, I was whipped. Of course Karissa isn't, she still wants to do a hundred things, none of which are clean up her mess, practice, or read. The laundry marathon continues. I have drooled, dripped, spit, cried, or oozed on everything I've worn as well as multiple towels, cloths, and rags. Yuck.

Sometime during the day, the surgical center called and said no, I would be at the OR after all. Check in at 7:30. I guess not really a big surprise and, frankly after the excitement I've had lately, I'm good with it. Also, Kelly had to call to get more suction kits because you don't need them often, but when you need one, you need it NOW.

I spent the balance of the evening lying about, although I did get up long enough to play Zombie Dice (Karina is crazy lucky!) and have a shower/wash my hair. I wish the trach was stable enough I could take the collar off to shower. It itches like crazy underneath. We cover it with wax paper while I shower to keep it dry, but that neck scar under there is getting no fresh air. The trach continues to ooze, which worries me a little. I'm figuring this is because of all the swelling though. There just isn't room for anything to go anywhere else. There were lots of questions about when they would switch this one. Someone said in a month. I don't know, nor do I care.  Funny how you stop worrying about stuff.

Tomorrow is port day. My eye is actually feeling a little better, so maybe there is some slackening of the swelling. Or at least leveling off. Friday is hair cut and PT. Then we have the weekend to rest up for Chemo day on Monday.  I am really not sure how next week will go. I've got my chemo backpack for 48 hours. I can't drive. I have to renew my license before Friday but I can barely open my eyes due to the swelling. I can't stay home alone really, but I can't drive Karissa to her stuff, either. Karina heads back to school this weekend and Kelly has already been home for two weeks. Mary comes in Thursday, followed by Natalie. Not sure if we are looking at home health care nurse, taking FMLA, hiring a teen to chauffeur Karissa around, or what. If you've got ideas, or know of someone who might be interested in the driving gig, please let me know.

If in the coming weeks I forget to thank you, to be thankful, please excuse me. You should always be thankful. It could always be worse. This too shall pass. Love to all of you.

Until tomorrow...