Today was a long day. Aaron and I left the house at 7:15, and my parents and I returned just before 6.

First stop was the WCC (Women’s Cancer Center), where I got an IV line put in my arm and bloodwork taken. They need this information for the chemo – to make sure my WBC (white blood cells) are ok and chemo is safe to give, etc.

The next stop was Radiology for the port placement. The nurse did some intake, explained the procedure, and answered questions, and then we met the doctor who did the same.

What is a port, you might be wondering. Unfortunately, this isn’t the alcoholic kind, which would be vastly preferable!

The port is a way to make chemo infusions (and blood draws) easier. The device is placed under the skin. The right side is the default as it’s closer to the heart, but an ultrasound of each side of the neck is done right before to confirm the best side. The National Cancer Institute has a good description of a port.

The first nurse — also named Lisa — ordered a clear mask for Laura, the nurse who would be with me during the procedure. They placed me on what felt like a thin ironing board, attached me to a blood pressure cuff and oxygen monitor. There was an x-ray screen just above me and four TV monitors for them to show the ultrasound images (used to guide the needle) and other readings.

I had been given the option of just feeling the lidocaine needle (which numbs the area) go in — a pinch and burn — or getting some fentanyl (my mind immediately went to Michael Jackson and the street drugs that are being laced with this horrible ingredient) and versed for pain and relaxation. Kind of like a twilight sleep, but not as much as a colonoscopy. I opted for the latter, knowing I have a low pain tolerance. That meant not eating anything after 1:30 am last night.

Laura assured me it would just be a very low dose, and I’d be awake throughout. She also said I would still feel the pinch and burn. Oh, now you tell me? I imagine it did take some edge off.

My head was on the left side, facing Laura for the whole procedure. She gave me a play by play of what was happening and always had her reassuring hand on me. She was a warm presence I really needed and another example of someone who was meant to be a nurse.

After a while of prep, the doctor came in and swabbed me with antiseptic. My chest area is still blue; I need to wipe it off. The first dose of lidocaine felt like it took a long time. After the second dose, I just felt pressure. I did not like when he pushed the catheter through to the right spot — ick. I could tell when he was doing the sutures.

My restrictions include not driving for the next 24 hours, as I’d be considered under the influence. I can’t lift anything heavier than 10 pounds for a week. The dressing has to stay intact for 48 hours and should not get wet. I’m not allowed in a hot tub, tub bath, or swimming pool for two months. I have to keep a gauze pad and band aid on the incision for five days.

After that was done, we went back to the WCC, where we met with one of the nurse practitioners. She took my vitals and checked the tumor, confirming what I suspected — it does appear to have gotten smaller! Operation KCA is off to a good start!

As usual, I had a ton of questions. I complained about the steroids making me ravenously hungry. They’re supposed to help with the side effects, so we can’t rid them completely. They did lower the IV steroid a little. We’ll see if that makes a difference. Next time, I’ll meet with Dr. Brufsky. If he thinks the side effects are too large, they might drop the A/C levels a bit for the last two treatments.

When we were done, we met up with my parents in the waiting room to trade off. Aaron went home and my parents took turns with me during the chemo treatment. Rosann was my nurse again. I was in a different room, and had a bed instead of a chair – which I liked.

The cool thing about the port placement is it can be utilized immediately. They left the needle in after the installation and the area was still numb, so I couldn’t tell/feel anything. For future treatments, I’ll put lidocaine cream on an hour prior.

I was given saline, two anti-nausea meds, and the A/C. We had to wait for my thyroid numbers to come in before administering the Keytruda. Then we found out the machine was broken. Rosann took some more blood to send to a different machine, meaning at least an hour wait.

My number came back a bit low, but a small amount can make a difference. Interestingly, they usually see the opposite with Keytruda — it usually raises thyroid numbers. Thankfully, a low number meant it was safe to get Keytruda, but I messaged my endocrinologist to let her know.

Half an hour later, we were finally done. I won’t see Rosann for my next two treatments (at least). But she highly endorsed her colleagues.

Of course being done after 4:40 meant we were stuck in rush hour traffic, and we stopped at the pharmacy on the way home to pick up my new scripts.

Mom and Dad left shortly after we returned, and they’re already in Buffalo (Dad has an appointment tomorrow he couldn’t miss). I took a two hour nap, because as you probably guessed from the title, the nausea is baaaacccckkkkk!

Rosann said to take Compazine around the clock, and to try taking Xanax as well because that might help with the nausea. I hate this part!

Samara got her monthly Remicade infusion today for her ulcerative colitis around the time I was getting my port placement. While my infusion wasn’t at the same time as hers, it was the same day — definitely picture worthy!