Today, I received a call that I was expecting. Really Cute Nurse Practitioner was calling to schedule the surgery to remove Little Warrior's portacath.
What I was not expecting -- "The surgeon can do it Tuesday."
Tuesday??? Wow! Yikes! Awesome! Eek! This Tuesday??? Yes.
If you get chemotherapy, odds are good that you'll get a port implanted under your skin because the chemo has to go directly in a vein. If it gets in the muscle, it can cause some major damage, like eating right through it.
Hey, this chemo stuff isn't for kids, you know?
Oh.
Anyway, getting it out is a big deal. As long as that port's still there, any fever over 101 means you have to go to the ER, because it could be a potentially fatal line infection. Once the port is out, then you go back to regular life. Get a fever, suck it up, kid.
That's the practical side. Then there's the other side. That says getting the port out means that you are DONE getting chemotherapy, DONE being a cancer patient.
So the fact that LW is getting her port removed before Thanksgiving is pretty thrilling.
This afternoon, Little Warrior was sitting on the arm of my chair, jabbering away to me. The sun came in through the window behind her and ... oh ... my.
Teeny tiny almost-microscopic fuzz. All over her head.
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7 comments:
Thanks for a smile on a stressful afternoon! Bet that fuzz feels wonderful!
Go Fuzz! Makes me very teary.
Oh gosh, oh gosh, teeny tiny fuzz! Cancer IS over. Yay!
Life is wonderful when a little fuzz--and the prospect of some surgery--makes the world light up... even all the way out on the West Coast!
Woo-hoo. Woo-hoo. Woo-hoo.
Oh, getting back to normal. So good.
:-)
Back to Baby Bayer aspirin for temperatures and life without the rolling hospital suitcase... allelujah!
(Pretty fabulous vid, what with Mr. Crooner hardly moving his mouth the entire song.)
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