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I thought I would be done on my last day of chemo. I thought they would schedule the removal of my port. Instead I got the news I would be keeping my port for at least five years. As it turned out, I needed it so it's a good thing they left it in.
I thought I would be done on my last day of chemo. I thought they would schedule the removal of my port. Instead I got the news I would be keeping my port for at least five years. As it turned out, I needed it so it's a good thing they left it in.
That doesn't sound like good news, Chele; did you find out about this recently?
I want my port out so badly; it's twisted under the skin and it's bruised. My last chemo is Tuesday; not looking forward to it since I got sick the last time. I hope it's the last; it's the last of the scheduled four. This is so not fun, and harder when you're depressed and lonely to begin with. I haven't had enough energy to work on my dad's book, or do anything but the bare necessities.
Deep breaths, char. Refuse to worry until you know what there is to worry about. Prayers for you.
I had a scare last week. Went to the doc for a stupid respiratory thing that had hung on for three weeks. Got a sack full of meds and an appt to return in three days. Went back and the PA said the lungs sounded much better but she wasn't thrilled about the sound of the heart. (I have a porcine valve in my aorta and I guess the oink didn't sound right) She ran an EKG strip and immediately faxed it over to the cardiologist who said there were some changes and scheduled me for a Cardiac Cath. Had it done on Wednesday only to find that everything seems to be okay. I was concerned that my valve was failing - it's seven and a half years old. But I kept myself busy to avoid worrying about it. And now I guess I'm good for another 1,000 miles.
All appendages crossed that your results are the same.
So, my scheduler at the onc's office screwed up my appointments. They scheduled my follow up for Friday, not the scan. If I hadn't called to confirm, I wouldn't have known until I got there.
Thank goodness for supportive supervisors and coworkers. I spent half of the day crying in various open offices while fighting with the office staff who kept trying to tell me that I didn't need a scan yet, just a physical exam and port flush. None of these people must be cancer survivors - so many of us base our lives around our scans. I haven't been able to plan out ANYTHING for my summer because I don't know if I'm going to need those vacation days or what (very little) money I have saved for relaxing this summer to get me through a stem cell transplant. I feel fine, but I also felt fine then I had a tumor the size of a tennis ball in my armpit, so I don't think it means anything.
My oncologist goes out of town through most of July and only has one open slot next week. If we can't get the PET/CT scheduled for next Monday or Tuesday, then no scan until August. I feel like what it must feel like to be an unmedicated bipolar person right now.
char, there is a special place in hell reserved for those people who refuse to listen when we try to tell them what we know about our own bodies. I hope all goes well for you.
Sometimes you have to be your own biggest advocate when it comes to this sort of thing. I was 180 miles from my cancer center. The whole time everything was well planned out and organized. I seemed to get the rock star treatment.
Then there are those who are best described by my parrot. (african grey) "heh, heh, heh, heh, idiot."
I double checked when I got my port flushed at the beginning of May. They said everything was set. Uuugh. There's been some turnover so my old scheduler is no longer there. I wonder if this fell through the cracks in the middle
I got a call today at lunch from the PET/CT scan department (where they also try to have the same techs work with you at every appointment - particularly for oncology) and my tech said, "Hope you're not eating any pasta right now, your scan is back on for tomorrow!" Ugh. I have to wait a week for the results.
I normally DO get the rockstar treatment. I'm the youngest in my cancer center by about 15 years. Normally, young adults go to Dana Farber or MGH which are less than 10 miles from my hospital, but a huge PITA to drive to, so I'm the baby of the office. I tend to make an impression on the staff and other patients. They often don't have me sit in the waiting room because it "upsets the other patients" when they realize I'm not someone's granddaughter.
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