I hate it. So far, after 36 hours, I fervently dislike the sensation of a catheter looped over my clavicle, knowing that it's tugging on my jugular with every slight motion. I'm terrified of raising my arms, or standing quickly--hell, I'm afraid to death of standing slowly. Sleep last night was difficult. I had only barely regained the ability to sleep on my left side. Now with the port, left side sleep is backsliding, and right side is right out. I obviously can't and won't sleep on my stomach, and too long flat on my back causes my legs to spasm. I'm going to have to sleep like a horse, on my feet. By 5:15 this morning, I was done sleeping anyway. I got up to go to the bathroom, and ended up digging out the tight Velcro bra they put on me after surgery, and wrapped it over the t-shirt I was sleeping in. It afforded me another 20 minutes' worth of sleep, spread out over the next two and half hours, at best.
I spent the entire day wrapped up in blankets, hating life. I had to talk to one of my best sources of information on cancer, and chemo ports specifically, to find out how long it takes to heal and stop feeling icky. I was told it took about two or three weeks to stop being irritating. Yuck. This means I'm not going to be participating in a whole lot of activity until well into June at this rate.
I discovered a YouTuber who has been a compelling guide through hair loss, mouth problems, makeup on a face with no brows or lashes, and ports. (I found her when I googled Power Ports.) I'm only making mental notes so far. I need to start writing some of this stuff down, especially the products to bring in my chemo bag. I thought I'd take the little roller-bag suitcase I have around here somewhere, but to pack a good plush blanket as well, I might want to upgrade to one of my big beach bags. I wish they had wheels.
I didn't feel up to much in the way of pictures today. Here's one from a couple of days ago, of one of the squirrels actively domesticating themselves on the altar of walnut-festooned back stairs. No matter what they think, they are not coming in this house. I can't handle the chaos that would ensue, and I'm definitely not going to be grabbing cats and squirrels away from each other while sporting a tube in my jugular. Nope.
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