Going Under

Have you ever heard that phrase, going under? It’s a pretty interesting phrase because it has just two words in it but a whole lot of interpretations, most of them negative. Going under could be a business facing financial ruin, or a person losing their life’s savings. It could even be about a swimmer, trying to stay afloat but virtually drowning.

All these things express the idea of “going under.” In my case, however, it meant something else. I was going under, as in under the knife. Not something good, but not bad either. I was having surgery and usually, people don’t have surgery when everything’s good. However, surgery could be a good thing if it will save your life. And in my case, I knew it was going to. What was the surgery for? It was for the placement of my port-a-cath.

Now a port-a-cath is a device through which blood is drawn and medications are also given when patients are receiving various types of treatments for cancer. It is one of the routes through which chemotherapeutic drugs are administered. It is a little device with a circular head and a long slim tail at the end. The circular head has a pliable center and this is the area where the needle is placed.

How do doctors use it? Well, it is surgically inserted into the body and the tail end of it is placed into the biggest vein carrying blood to the heart known as the Superior Vena Cava (SVC for short). Since the heart pumps blood to the rest of the body, it serves as a quick route to administer the drugs. In addition, chemo drugs can sometimes be so toxic that if smaller veins in the body are used, they will eventually burn out. After surgery, the circular head might protrude through the skin as a lump on the chest and this allows nurses to quickly locate and palpate the center where they insert the needle for blood draws, and also to infuse the chemo drugs.

Whenever a person has to undergo surgery, they are usually advised not to eat for at least twenty-four hours, and only have a liquid diet. At least, that was the case for me. So not only had I just come back from my trip, hungry, jet-lagged and tired but in addition, I couldn’t even indulge in a meal. The night before, I sat there at the dinner table looking at my cousin Christian eating his life away with the biggest grin on his face as if to say, “You can’t have this!”

The next day, it was finally time to “go under” and I took a picture before the anesthesia kicked in.

When I came to, I was relieved to see the doctors smiling at me and telling me the surgery had gone well.

Why, hi there Mr. Bean! It’s good to see you. Not sure if this was the anesthesia still talking, but I was happy the procedure was over. My mind was in better shape, but my body felt like crap. On a serious note, Mr. Bean is an actor, not a surgeon, so I’m happy he wasn’t really the one performing the procedure.

Though I wouldn’t have minded if Dr. McDreamy was in the operating room (OR).

I get up to feel a protrusion in my chest. It feels really weird at first, like a big rock glued to my skin. But eventually, I forget it’s there.

After all the hunger from not having to eat before surgery, I indulge in some serious food! (This blog is for everyone, but for my African readers, you know what I mean!)

The next day, still recovering from the pain of my port-a-cath placement, I go back to the hospital for my first chemo infusion. Shit just got real.

Now, here’s how my first chemo treatment went…

Not sure at what point of my journey you’re on? Be sure to check out The Contents Page.