Biopsies, Clips and Ports....

Week three after first Chemo.

Gerry and I woke up at quarter to six this morning, and got ready to leave the house for the hospital just after six, Yes I know, that was pushing it! After getting up, washing, and brushing my teeth, I got ready to face the daunting day ahead of me.  We actually ended up leaving the house just shy of 6:30 a.m. 

We arrived at St. Vincent's Hospital just before quarter past eight. The traffic had been very slow and very heavy. My first port of call at the hospital was to the phlebotomy dept. I took a ticket, number 17, and sat down thinking... 'Oh Great... More needles!' I was called in and the nurse took the three vials needed for today, all bloods had to be sent to the lab and results returned before the Radiology Intervention Dept. would put in the port. Next stop was the R.I. Dept. Gerry and I went up to the third floor and sat and waited to be called through. Just as the nurse came to call me, a second nurse arrived calling me too. The two nurses discussed where I should be going. I ended up being taken to the ultra-sound department where I would be given an ultrasound scan, and then each tumour would have pieces taken from them (biopsied) and also have a clip inserted into them. I learned today that the clips are inserted into the tumour, so that when they are removed, the tissue removed will be x-rayed to see if the tiny clips are there, this is an indication that they have removed all the tumours. Unfortunately, due to the fact that I now have three tumours and not just the one, and the fact that the added sizes of the tumours are measuring nearer 5cm, could mean that this will now mean a mastectomy as opposed to a lumpectomy. 

The doctor came in and carried out the ultrasound, she once again, pointed out the original tumour and then searched for the other two. Unfortunately they are very deep in the tissue, so, when the biopsy for each tumour was needed, a probe had to be inserted. This had to go quite deep causing only a small amount of discomfort. The biopsy was taken from each lump, I told the doctor that I felt as though the probe was almost coming out of my shoulder blade, I could feel discomfort in the shoulder and armpit area. This was probably because a nerve was being touched, the tumours are based very close to my chest bone. Apparently that is very deep. Next, with more extremely long needles, the clips were inserted. Three paper stitches were put over each 'cut' and a padded dressing over those. These are to remain in place for the next three days. After this procedure, I was told to go into the waiting room as a further mammogram was needed. 

In the breast clinic at St. Vincent's, the waiting room is a clean yet small room for women who are all attending the breast clinic for the same thing. Some are there for the first time, others are there for their 'over 50 call up',  some are there after being 'breast aware' and finding a lump,  today I was there having already had a diagnosis, first chemo, further biopsies and now waiting to be called for yet another mammogram to ensure that the clips were in the correct place. Luckily most walk away with a clean bill of health. I have been to this clinic on two occassions prior to my diagnosis. These were to check up on small lumps that I had found, which thankfully, had been nothing more than cyst like tissue, that 'disappeared' of its own accord. 

Today, I wore my black chemo cap, the obligatory blue gown and carried my upper clothes in a basket with my handbag. One thing I did notice  today was that when folk looked up at the 'new' person walking in, they quickly glanced away as opposed to the nod and smile I have had in the past. All had their own hair, all knew I was one of the unlucky one's and only one could meet my eye, smile and nod. I understand totally how the others felt. Before my diagnosis a similar thing happened when I was in the clinic, and a lady with no hair walked in. I nodded and swapped pleasantaries with her, but whilst I was there, nobody else did. It is as though people are looking away thinking, 'OMG... Poor woman, she must have cancer, Oh God... don't let that happen to me!' Seeing that person, makes the folk waiting for tests realise that this cancer is real, that it actually could be them, and it is only for the grace of God when it isn't.  This 'unwillingness' to acknowledge or glance my way did make me feel quite uncomfortable and I am in no doubt that they too felt uncomfortable, uncomfortable in the knowledge that if they were unlucky, they could be in my position in a month or two's time. Personally I hope none of them are. It is not a very nice place to be.  

After the Mammogram it was back to Radiology Intervention. Time for the port to be fitted. Once again I had to put on a blue gown and wait. A nurse arrived to take more bloods, I asked why I had to have more bloods taken, and once she realised I had already visited 'Dracula's Den' first thing this morning, and the results had come in, further bloods were not necessary. However, I did need a cannula inserted as this proceedure required that I have a anaesthetic.  I was taken into the 'theatre' where all preparations were underway. I was covered with a blue 'tent' that kept everything sterile. Oxygen tubes were inserted into my nostrils, two doctors came over and told me what would be happening and then the anaesthetic was administered.  I slowly and pleasantly drifted off to sleep. Two hours later I was waking up back in the recovery bay with Gerry stroking my head.  I drifted back to sleep. An hour later I was wide awake and Gerry and I were preparing to leave the hospital. Now I have to admit, I was and currently am in some discomfort. This is only to be expected really as there is quite a large foreign object going from the top of the right side of my chest and up into my neck. There are two sites that were cut and both these are a little painful. The pain has reduced slightly, but the feeling of the port under the skin is quite nauseating. I am a little on the squeamish side to say the least. I have put a photograph of a diagram of the port here so that you might understand how it has been inserted. There is no little 'dongle' type of fitting that attaches to the Chemo, this is beneath the skin and the skin has to be pierced each time to get the chemo drip attached to the port. And here I was thinking that I was going to be done with needles.... Fat Chance Murphy!!! It is that 'lumpy bit' under the skin that makes you want to hurl to be honest.  It is not too small either.  I am sure as the time progresses, the port will become less painful and uncomfortable as I become accustomed to it. In the meantime I just have to try to forget that it is there or I am likely to become anorexic with the amount of hurling I am liable to do at the mere thought of this object being under my skin and inside my veins. 

I have quite a busy week ahead of me, I have two days break from any hospital visit. I have Chemo on Thursday (another lengthy day at the hospital) and on Friday I have to return to the hospital for the results of the biopsies carried out today. That will be a meeting with the consultant. I just hope that there is no more bad news... God only knows that I certainly need a break from that sort of news.