Everything went fine.

Everything, that is, except that I wasn't scheduled for the procedure I thought I was to have.

See? I told you something wasn't going to go as advertised.

We checked in at the hospital and they set me up in my own room, in a portion of the hospital they call "Care Suites." I've been in there a few times, as a volunteer, delivering the box lunches they order up for the patients. My room, in fact, was right next to the fridge I usually put the lunches in, so I knew precisely where I was. I'm still not really sure what they do there, but it's got something to do with looking after people who have radiologic procedures done (Ya think?), and people who need more monitoring after same day surgery. Perhaps? I dunno. Anyway, after putting on one of those HIDEOUS gowns, they did the standard stuff, vitals, IV inserting, blood taking, running through medical stuff, handing off the remote control for the tee vee, you know, the regular. When it came time for the procedure, a very nice radiology RN wheeled me (yes, I was in bed, and it was, again, very luxurious) down to CT. They got me settled in, and it was then that a problem arose.

The RN started talking about how the procedure was to be done, and when she reached the end of her schpiel, I was a bit confused. She had described how they were going to take some preliminary images with the cat scanner, the radiologist would claim her stake on my lymphocele, then they'd be running me in and out of the scanner in between draining the lymphocele, to make sure they had everything. She asked if I understood, and I said, I did. "So," I asked, "how long do you have to wait before you inject the alcohol?" She looked at me queerly, and said, "Why would you think you were having that done?"
"Because that's what I was told would be happening. That after draining it, you'd put alcohol into it so it would create scar tissue and would shrink up."

"Ok," she said, and went into the control room, to chat with the radiologist.

This is the point where I muttered, "Houston, we have a problem."

The problem being that Dr. Academic's main nurse didn't write up the order for the alcohol procedure, but rather for a simple draining of the lymphocele (or "suspected lymphocele", because they're still not sure that's what it is.). Now, I'm not really sure why, when I talked to her on Friday, and we chatted specifically about the alchohol procedure, she didn't say, "But, Kathy, that's not what you're having. You'll simply have it drained, and we want to do it this way because it might work, and it's less invasive." But she didn't say that. She talked about the alcohol procedure, and that's all she talked about, SO HELLO, that's what I thought I was having. I mean, am I dumb or something, because she NEVER mentioned draining the thing outside the context of this certain procedure. NO ONE in that bloody office who I chatted to about it said ANYTHING about simple drainage, because, and I quote, "Chances are it'll just fill right back up." It sounded to me as if they weren't going to waste their time with that procedure, and Dr. Academic thought it would be better to skip to the step that did work.

So, they ran around the control room for about a half hour, calling Dr. Academic's nurse, then they got a hold of Dr. Academic himself, and he ok'ed the procedure. I just couldn't get my head around why he wanted me to do this, when it had seemed like he'd ixne'd it right off the bat. I was confused and tried to explain to the RN that this is what we had talked about and that this is what I had signed up for. And she didn't doubt me one iota. She said, "You obviously know what you're talking about, but we just need to be clear about this." The radiologist came out and we chatted. She recommended having the procedure done, because it was less invasive and it was going to be more "comfortable" than having the alcohol procedure done. The crux of the matter was this: it was either drain the sucker, or that would be that. My choice. I chose to drain it, but am still bewildered as to why the wires got crossed in the first place.

As far as these sorts of things go, it was pretty easy to bear. In and out of the machine, marking the injection point with a sharpie, in and out of the machine again, then they gave me the IV sedation drugs, the radiologist numbed my belly up with some lidocaine, cleaned me off with iodine, and then did her thing. Then they ran back into the control room and ran me in and out again. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. Until it was over and done with, by which time one of the lymphocele's walls had collapsed, 44cc of supposed lymphatic fluid (it was yellow, that's all I can tell you) was sent off to pathology, and the doctor had put a band-aid on my wound. I was wheeled back to Care Suites, and since I hadn't been allowed to eat or drink for four hours before, devoured a box lunch I am sure one of my fellow volunteers schlepped up there a few hours before.

They let me go about fifty-minutes after the procedure was done, and I was happy to get out of that place. I got a wheelchair ride to the door, and our friend ML picked us up. Then I came home and napped for about two hours.

As of right now, I'm simply sore in that neighborhood. They told me to take advil for any pain. I wish I could take a bath and soak some of the pain away, alas, however bathing is verboten until the injection site is completely healed. Bummer. I didn't think the IV sedation was all that bad, but if I'm up and moving, I'm not really enjoying life all that much. Even now, sitting at my desk, writing this, I'm getting woozy. If I stay down on the sofa or in bed, I'm ok, so that is where I shall be heading shortly.

Thanks for all the well wishes, prayers and everything. I appreciate them. You're a lovely bunch of coconuts, my devoted Cake Eater readers. But now you need to send them Russ and Janis' way, because they've had a rough couple of weeks and it's shortly to be compounded by the fact they're not going to get hardly any sleep for the next few months.

Posted by: Kathy at 09:02 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
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As I mentioned, I've been having some medical problems. Again. Sigh. When will this long national nightmare be over with? I haven't the foggiest, but hopefully it will be soon. As in, it might end tomorrow.

Because, my devoted Cake Eater readers, I'm going back into the hospital. And not to volunteer, either.

The deal is this: the lymphocele is causing more pain. I called in about it last week, and Dr. Academic's office called back on Friday, and instead of moving the CT scan up, like I thought was going to happen, instead they recommended that I go through the procedure where they drain the lymphocele and then fill it with alcohol to create more scar tissue, so it didn't fill back up again. Dr. Academic's main nurse is finally back from maternity leave, and it's a good thing too, because she was able to explain the procedure well enough to get me to sign on. See, I wasn't crazy about going from having a tennis ball-sized, fluid-filled sac in my pelvis to having a tennis ball-sized, scar tissue-filled sac in my pelvis. I mean, what's the point? I explained this to her, and she said, "Oh, no, that's not entirely correct. Yes, the alcohol will create scar tissue that will keep the lymphocele from filling up again, but it will also shrink it down to almost nothing." "Really?" I asked, somewhat confused. "Dr. Academic didn't mention that at all." "Well," said she of the knowledge, with a light laugh, "That doesn't surprise me." {insert rolling of eyes and a massively painful slap to the head here} I should have known he would, in his general state of rushing around like a chicken with its head cut off, forget to tell me something essential. I told her I needed to chat with the husband, and she said she'd write up the order for the procedure, and if I decided to go ahead with it, I was to call the scheduler and they'd set it up for me.

After im'ing back and forth with the husband about it for about a half-hour, we decided to go through with it, and I put a call in to Dr. Academic's scheduler to get the ball rolling. After about four phone calls with the scheduler, I am tentatively scheduled to have the procedure tomorrow.

The reason it's "tentatively" scheduled is because I've been on ibuprofen therapy since November for the neuropathies, as well as Vitamin E. I've been taking 600mg of Advil, three times a day, and one Vitamin E capsule per day, and since both are blood thinners, they generally have a five day wait rule in place, as it takes that long to get the crap out of your system so that your blood will clot normally. This would have put the procedure on Wednesday, but, alas, the hospital did not have any open slots on Wednesday, and as Dr. Academic told the scheduler that Thursday would be too long to wait, they pencilled me in for Tuesday. I now am waiting for the hospital to call me back, to confirm that the radiologist who will be performing the procedure, has signed-off.

Fortunately for me, the procedure is outpatient. Phew. That was another concern of mine, but, fortunately, Dr. Academic was wrong when he told me that I'd probably have to stay overnight after the procedure. (See, it really is a GOOD thing that the main nurse is back, because she ALWAYS has more---and better---information. Bless her.) Neither will I have to go to the different hospital, but can have it done at the one I was at last year. The procedure, I believe, is called "alcohol scleropathy," but basically what will happen is that it's a CT guided procedure, and when the radiologist gets the lymphocele on the screen, he/she/it will inject a big honkin' needle into it to drain it. Then they'll insert the alcohol, and will shift my inert body around to make sure the booze hits all the high points within it. Fortunately, I shall be, blessedly, out of it for this part. When that's over and done with, they'll keep me for a few hours for observation, and barring any goofs or complications, I should be able to go home. If you're curious about this procedure, go here and then scroll down to the portion on lymphoceles and you'll be able to see (yes, kids, there are pictures!) what will happen to me. Fortunately, while I will be out, I won't be knocked out via general anesthesia, which is good because I didn't react so well to that last time round. Neither do I have to clear out the intestines with Colon Blow (aka magnesium citrate, which is not the nicest of laxatives), but rather have to simply refrain from eating or drinking for four hours beforehand.

Surprisingly, I'm not all that nervous. I suspect that might change, though, as the time draws closer. I came to the conclusion last night, as I was trying to fall asleep, that I just really needed this one to go right---or at least for it to go precisely how they told me it would. God willing, it will, but let's face it, kids, if something was bound and determined to go wrong, it will go wrong with moi. I wasn't supposed to have ovarian cancer, and I did and I lost everything that day. I was supposed to breeze through chemo, because I was young and healthy, but I didn't. This is supposed to be no big deal in the scheme of things, but, like I said, if something's bound to go wrong, it would be just my luck for it to follow through. {Insert long windy sigh here} It would seem that millions of people around the world, enter hospitals and medical clinics every day of the damn week and get out relatively unscathed. I haven't been one of their number, and I wish it were otherwise. Tomorrow will be another test to see if I can join them in their normality.

Let's hope this is uneventful, because if I wind up back in the hospital, in one of those HIDEOUS gowns, for an extended stay, someone's head is going to be roasted on a spit and will, eventually, wind up on a platter, garnished with vegetables and greens, and a Granny Smith apple jauntily placed between their upper and lower mandibles.

UPDATE: We're on for tomorrow.

Posted by: Kathy at 09:50 AM | Comments (4) | Add Comment
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