I awoke from my nap this afternoon with pretty fair certainty that some invader had snuck into the house and smashed me across the shoulder and lower neck with a Louisville Slugger. OK I exaggerate, a little, but the Dr. said there might “be a little bruising and discomfort” when the freezing wore off. I’m just compensating for his understatement.
He was sneaky as well as misleading.
He cut my throat; Actually took a knife and sliced into my jugular vein. A little lower on my upper chest, he sliced open a pocket about the size of the little pocket inside your front jeans pocket. You know, the one nobody is quite sure what it is for?
Well, the one on my chest is to hold a tiny little septic tank complete with a hose running out of it that connects to the rest of the field (circulatory system). He burrowed under the skin from the tank pocket to the arterial wound and stitched the exit end of the hose into my jugular. A few stitches here a little glue there and hide it all under a layer of gauze so I can’t see exactly what he has done. But he can’t fool me. I know when something hurts.
They tell me (and it looks like Gord Henkel backs them up on this one) it will make future chemo and CT and PET procedures a LOT easier and more comfortable. I must remember to follow up on whether the savings are worth the investment. Somebody ask me if I forget.
From now on, they will inject any dyes, radioactive sugars or other shit (to stretch the metaphor) they need in me into the little tank and my heart will do the rest of the work. So after all, they will still be poking holes in me. Damn!
On the positive side, the Dr. says the precise placement of this “Power Port” should cause me to stop swinging over the top thus correcting my slice and taking five strokes off my golf game.