Monday, March 19, 2012

The benefits of being proactive

A week ago Friday, just after I visited the doctor and learned I was going to be on treatment indefinitely, I was sitting in the hot tub feeling rather depressed. While I am sad that I have no idea when my chemo treatments will actually end - for many reasons - I knew there was more to it. So I delved into my brain and came up with the major reason for my sad feelings.

Swimming.

Summer is coming and I love the water-based activities that accompany my favourite season. I was looking forward to visiting the beach at Port Franks, heading to my sister's to cavort in her pool, going camping at Port Burwell with its sandy, warm beach, and putting up the pool in our backyard and floating with a drink.

Yet because I haven't found a waterproof PICC line cover (just one water resistant enough to go in the hot tub), I knew my swiming activities this summer would be non-existent if I were in treatment. I knew a port-a-cath would allow me to plunge my body in water and participate in all those dreamt-of activities, but figured the doctors wouldn't instigate a surgical procedure just because I wanted it.

But when we were at the cancer centre for the paracentesis, Michael flagged down one of the top gynaecological surgeons, who is very involved in The Run for Ovarian Cancer, and explained how replacing my PICC line with a port would improve the quality of my life. The doc said, this is exactly the out-of-the-box thinking doctors need to help patients get through treatment with the best lifestyle possible. I double-checked that I could swim at a beach, and he said yes. Yippee!

Later on that day, Michael ran into Dr. W who also agreed this was something we could do to make my life better. He indicated he'd start to get the paperwork ready so when I went in for chemo on Friday, I could sign all the necessary forms (his nurse ended up getting it all prepared for me when we went in because it slipped his mind). Apparently, I should have an appointment to complete the procedure in about three weeks.

A port-a-cath - also known as a central venous access device (CVAD) - is made up of a chamber, which is about the size of a loonie, and a catheter, or flexible tube where the medicine or blood travels to and from a major vein in the chest. The insertion requires about a two inch incision and the chamber will leave a small, visible raised area under the skin. But it can remain in place for months or even years.

The procedure is considered surgery and insertion will take up to three hours under local anaesthetic and a mild sedative. I've been advised the entire procedure takes most of the day and I'll need someone to drive me home. It takes seven to 10 days to heal completely and it may take up to two months for the stitches to dissolve completely. I have to avoid lifting or putting pressure on the cath for at least two weeks.

The brochure about the CVAD warns the area may be tender when it's used for the first time but recommends a numbing cream. I think this Emla Cream sounds like a good idea as any unnecessary pain is, well, unnecessary.

I'm a little nervous about the whole insertion because it sounds like a big deal, but I really want the benefits of a port versus a PICC. So I know it will be worth it. In comparison to many the other procedures I've had done, I'm sure this will be a piece of cake, but it still involves invasive cutting into my skin. But like I said, totally worth it if I can swim this summer.

So while I am bummed about the idea of constant chemotherapy treatment, right now my mental viewpoint is I need to do whatever is necessary to start to feel and get better. If that takes multiple doses of taxol, so be it. Adding swimming into my list of allowed (and enjoyable) activities makes life just a little bit better - and the idea of indefinite treatment just a little more tolerable.

It's amazing what some proactive discussions with doctors can produce. Thanks to me requesting a chemo change and Michael approaching the doctors about the port, I feel like we're really moving in the right direction. That feels good.

Tina

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