BIG TIME DISCLAIMER: IF YOU ARE A BIT OF A WIMP, GET NAUSEATED EASILY, CAN’T WATCH MEDICAL SHOWS, DON’T LIKE GORE, ETC., DO NOT LOOK DOWN. JUST STOP READING RIGHT HERE. TURN YOUR HEAD. YOU’LL BE GLAD YOU DID.
For all you “brave” souls, if you are still with me, I would like to give you an update on my port saga. As you know, it was infected and the infection had tunneled up toward my scar and burst out of my skin from the inside, so I had two seeping holes about the size of a pencil eraser. Well, not anymore. Nope. Now I have a hand crafted and ever so handy “breast” pocket made of flesh. Forget the pencil eraser, now I could carry the whole pencil case around. Or reading glasses, or. . .
I was thinking it would be uncomfortable, but not too bad. Especially when I made the decision to change the dressings at home instead of having a nurse come twice a day. Oy.
I didn’t realize the doctor used what seemed like the world’s largest roll of gauze along with a butter churner to cram it in my chest. I was yelping while trying to remove the gauze. The gauze sticks to my flesh and you can hear it ripping as I pull it out little by little. It is agonizing.
Our first plan was for Dave to do it, but when I realized how badly it hurt, I wouldn’t let him because I knew it wasn’t fair to him. I think he was relieved, though he did have to stay close, in case I needed help and because I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t pass out.
After about an hour I had pulled all of the gauze out of the bottom hole (which is now only slightly larger than the diameter of a pencil eraser) and a little of the gauze from the top hole. I had to start sitting down because I was seeing stars and getting dizzy.
I began to look a bit like a human Kleenex dispenser:
If that picture turned your stomach, don’t keep scrolling.
This is your final warning.
Even I was overwhelmed when I saw how deep the hole in my chest is. It is approximately three inches deep and the opening is about two inches wide.
I have to change the bandages two times per day. I don’t really think about much other than when my next bandage change is scheduled.
I have many more pics, but I figure you have had enough. Thanks for all your well wishes via email. . . I really appreciate them.
And if you hear a faint yelp that sounds like my voice, you’ll know it is bandage change time.
P.S. Temporarily, my new them song is the hymn “Holy, Holy, Holy!”