Last Thursday was my monthly date for getting my port-a-cath flushed. I asked if I could speak with Dr. Kubba before the flush because I've developed a few spots of scaly skin. Psoriasis maybe (my mother had it bad as a child) or... Cutaneous lymphoma?
Ah the Internet, a double-edged sword. The fountain of knowledge with the potential to confuse, confound and completely freak out the armchair doctor. Have you ever done it? Had some symptoms and looked them up online? Hmm, the diagnosis is an ingrown toenail or no, wait! Maybe it's a rare malignant big toe tumor and you have only 6 months to live. Sigh. A little knowledge in the wrong hands...
So, I decided I wanted Dr. Kubba to take a look at this skin thing just to get it on his radar.
Dr. Kubba was a sweet and patient as always. He gave it a good look and after talking it over we decided on probable psoriasis. He prescribed an ointment (combination anti-fungal and steroid) so we'll see if it improves.
On to the infusion room and the port flush. By the time I go in its pretty much a full house. Lots of people, all shapes and sizes and colors. Old and young. Seems like cancer is an equal opportunity kind of disease. That's sobering. Some people are in obvious pain, others look resigned to their fates but most, as always, are wearing cheerful faces. Brave souls.
The nurse preps me for the flush. Hold down your shirt and she swabs your skin three times with beta dine and a couple of times with alcohol. Then she tells you to lean forward. Jab with the needle! Yikes! I guess she really has to do it that way to penetrate the top of the port. At least it's over in a minute. It's the weirdest thing. As soon as they access my port I am overwhelmed by the strong, kind of unpleasant taste and smell. The nurse tells me it's the heparin, still in my port from the last session. Hmm. It is a reassuring sensation because I know she was successful in hitting my vein. Yeah port! All of this takes no more than 3 or 4 minutes and I'm up and on my way. Not so for the many I left behind, some of which have 2 or 3 bags of chemo drugs still hanging on the pole by their reclining chair. All my best wishes for them all.
