2/3/12 - Cancer, Quit Messing With My Plans!

It's beginning to seem like every time I'm feeling good and think I'm home-free until next chemo treatment, one more setback occurs.  Last night at bedtime, I noticed my left arm was swollen.  I've been cautious for 6 years to prevent lymphedema... avoiding lifting heavy things with this arm, avoiding repetitive motion, carrying Neosporin with me at all times in case of a cut or sting, and most importantly always informing medical personnel not to give injections to, draw blood from, or take blood pressure from my left arm.  However, during the surgeries in December, it was necessary to use my left hand for the IV's... there was really no choice.  Now I have a port that can be used for IV's, drawing blood, etc.  The night I was taken to the hospital, the paramedics needed to start an IV.  They were not familiar with using a port, so I gave them permission to use my left hand, since I had had no problems with the sticks in December.  Now, here I am with a fairly significantly swollen left arm.  I called the doctor first thing this morning, but he was not able to get back to me until late today.  His nurse informed me that it might not be lymphedema, but a tiny blood clot from the port having been used in the hospital.  I was told this was not as serious as a blood clot in the leg, and that it is a fairly common occurrence when ports are used.  I would need an ultra sound to determine if there was a clot, and if so, the problem could be easily resolved.  The bad news?  Because of the lateness of the day, I would have to go to the ER in order to get the ultra sound.

Got to admit, this was a disturbing way to wrap up my Friday.  I was looking forward to a weekend of feeling good, resting, enjoying some normal activities, and being as healthy as possible before my chemo treatment on Thursday.  But no!  One more thing to deal with!  I was more consumed with the thought of the hours in the ER waiting room (which in my experience can be very much like a visit to hell) than what was going on with my arm.  I was still at work trying to finish up recording some commercials.  When that was done, I couldn't hold back the tears any longer.  I'm so tired of my crying spells... I make myself sick sometimes.  I'm better than this... I hate being a cry baby!  And yet, I'm beginning to see that I have to cry to move on.  It only took walking into the ER for my crying to turn to disgust.  Why oh why oh why oh why do so many people have to come to the ER with their entire family?!?!  I realize that sometimes it is unavoidable.  But when there are 3 adults and 5 children in the waiting room from one family, I gotta ask, "Couldn't one of those adults have stayed home with the kids?"  They were blowing up exam gloves and chasing them all over the room, screaming, and bumping into people.  I don't think I have ever been to an ER, where there wasn't at least one family reunion going on in the waiting room.  Isn't there an app for that?  Or at least a special room.  For them... or for the rest of us?
    
The good thing was, I didn't have to wait long to be seen, although there were numerous trips back and forth from the waiting room to get blood pressure checks and other tests, including the ultra sound which ruled out any blood clots.  During the various exams, I discovered that my legs, ankles and feet were also swollen!  I was aware of some discomfort in my legs throughout the day, but didn't even realize they were swollen until they went to take my blood pressure (which now has to be done from my ankle).  So, I was discharged with a diagnosis of lymphedema in my arm, for which I will have to have special physical therapy to allow the lymphatic fluids to drain.  I was told the swelling in my legs was likely due to excess fluids from the IV's given during my recent hospital stay, and this would gradually resolve itself.

All moved pretty well throughout the ER visit, and I was finally told that I would be discharged as soon as the paperwork was ready.  Here the process bogged down.  It was nearly an hour before one sheet of paper was brought to me to sign to be able to leave the hospital.  I had lost it emotionally again, crying, angry.  I had was giving them until 8:30 pm to get the paperwork to me, or I was going to simply walk out the door.  Enough is enough, and I had had ENOUGH!  At 8:25, I was "properly" discharged. 

As I pulled out of the hospital complex, an ambulance on the other side of the road, with sirens going and lights flashing, was moving quickly toward the hospital.  At that instant, I had the sense that the lives of an entire family could be changing!  Someone could be dying, and agonizing heartbreak would engulf a loving family.  A tragedy could be occurring for these people, and I was simply swollen and pissed off.  I thanked God for the sign that I really didn't have it so bad.  Then, I realized my selfishness in thinking God was giving me a sign, and prayed for the person in the ambulance, the medical staff, and the family.  I instantly heard God's voice say, "It's okay, Jeanne, I'm taking care of them.  This IS also a sign for you.  I'm loving all of you."

My lesson is to remember that no matter what happens to me, I must always try to put things in perspective.  In the midst of each "setback" I sometimes feel ready to give up, and think I can't possibly keep going.  And when I've come through each episode, I look back and see... it wasn't so bad.  Like Kelly Clarkson says in her latest hit song, "What doesn't kill you makes you STRONGER!"  Well, I'm starting to feel a little more like Phil Pfister every day!  Anyone need a car lifted or a piano moved?