So Here's the Thing

Well, I guess there's not really one thing when it comes to this post, but you don't mind that I put that for the title, do you? Do you? Do you mind? I didn't think you would. Anyway, Mayo-land was an adventure, like always. What would a trip to Rochester be, if not exciting? The morning started out fun from the get go. It was snowing pretty hard here in Red Wing, so Dion and I thought we would leave a little early as to not be late. That in itself is kind of a joke since we always ended up waiting to get in to see the doctor anyway. So we leave. The roads are crappy, but then all of a sudden, the snow stops and it's easy driving to Rochester. So easy that we ended up being over a half an hour early. Great, Now instead of sitting there for 20 minutes to get in to see the oncologist, we'll sit 40 minutes. But I was wrong. We actually got called back pretty quick.

Now I have this habit of trying to "read" the nurses face when I go to these appointments. Did she look me in the eye, was her mood somber, does she know something I don't? Hell, I couldn't tell. But I did the same thing when the doctor came in to the room. We did the hand shake thing, and he said the magic words I love to hear....

"All your tests look great."

Sigh. Another check-up passed with flying colors. In fact, my cholesterol level was down too, which was a miracle in itself since we spent the weekend eating all junk food. Dion said it was because I switched from regular marshmallows, to mini marshmallows, and I am starting to believe him. I love marshmallows.

So my echo was fine, which is good, my bloodwork was fine, which is good, then we talked about my chest X-ray. Ah, the chest X-ray. I asked my onc when I could get my port out. Now I will admit here that I am a little on the psycho side when it comes to my port. I am asking everyone and their mother when I can get the prt out, really to try and get an answer that I want to hear. For example, I asked Claire if I could have my port removed after my last treatment, and she said yes. So there you go. Oops...a little sidetracked...anyway, here's how the 411 went down.

"Do you want it out now?" said the onc.

"What? Like right now? Here?" said Sue.

And commence laughter from the doctor. Apparently that was funny, which, now that I think about it, why the heck would he be the one to take out my port? Duh. Back to the chest X-ray. The radiologist seems to think that there might be a break, crack, or whatever, in my port. Broken. What the hell? How would that happen? So my onc gave me a copy of my chest X-ray on disk to take to my doctor at home so she could look at it too. And I did just that....I'm a good patient. Most of the time. So now it seems to be a mystery if there is actually a break in the port, or if the tubing is just kinked and looks like a break. Either way I am having another port study done tomorrow to see what's what. If there's a break, they will be able to see the dye that they inject coming out of it. If they don't see any dye escaping, I assume that means that there's no break or crack.

So what does all of this mean and why am I telling you? Well, to tell you this....

This happens to be my second port. Why second? Well, because like my normal self, I had to have the first one taken out a month or so after I finished chemo the first time around. Yup. Glad I did that. But do you know who was even happier that I insisted that the port come out? That would be my surgeon. She was thrilled. Just ask her, she'll tell you all about it. I hate it when someone can use the phrase "I told you so" on me, and this was one big fat "I told you so". Now here I sit with the possibility that I have to have this port removed, and Dr Beth is thrilled. Slice and dice. Now I will tell you about Dr Beth, because I threatened her that I would, so I will.

I met Beth almost 2 years ago. She has done my biopsies, both mastectomies, both ports, a colonoscopy (I've got another 3.5 years until the next one....AHHHH!!!!), and in the process of doing all of this medical stuff for me, she has become an irreplaceable friend. She's really the only one who can bring me back to earth when I get all cuckoo for cocoa puffs (and cancer). She's been a valuable sounding board and I love the time that we spend together. So that being said, there were some issues when she was putting in my last port, and has claimed that I have given her grey hair, hence her not wanting to put another one in me. You didn't know I was that powerful, did you?

Now, you might be asking why, after all of the complaining I do about my port, would I want another one. That's a valid question, and here's my answer. Yes, I do hate my port, but my veins are so crappy that almost always they collapse when they are used. And did you know that I hate needles? I am getting better, I don't faint anymore. Plus, I have another 12 weeks of treatment left (3 extra weeks have been added. That was disappointing, but eh...). So do we weigh the pros and cons? I guess it's not even worth doing that until after the port study tomorrow. Wait wait wait. I suppose I would lean towards getting a new port, but holy crap, I don't think Beth would EVER take that bad boy out. Ever. Ugh. Which is worse? Collapsing veins, or the operating room? Tough call.

I better go to bed. We are supposed to get 7-10 inches of snow in the next 24 hours, so school may or may not be canceled/delayed/early released, which means my program would be open all day. Snow....what's that?