Back in November, I developed Superior Vena Cava Syndrome, (SVCS) caused by the chemo port that was implanted only a few weeks prior. SVCS is deep vein thrombosis of the superior cava vein, the big fat juicy vein that drains from your head, neck, arms and upper chest into your heart. Basically blood clots in your neck and chest. My veins were blocked by clots courtesy of the implanted medical device.
Symptoms started slow, then blew up over night (the night of my participation in the local art show). My chest, neck and face puffed up like a can of biscuits. My right arm and hand, stripped of a lymph drainage system, also swelled to Michelin Man proportions. My immune system, withering and weak, also suffered another infection. My neck felt strangled by the pressure. The phrase “blood clots” has a powerful terror.
There is more to the story of that emergency room dash, hospital stay and recovery. At this moment, the angioplasty is in my mind. I had two angioplasty procedures to treat the blood clots. I went under a huge hanging X-ray machine, in a procedure room, with my arms out like a scarecrow, nurses and doctor all around me. I was wide awake. Wide awake when they wheeled me in, wide awake when they jabbed and stabbed for an IV, wide awake when they ran down the checklist and time out. Then, I was finally slightly sedated, but that takes time too. I was awake while they put drugs in the IV, an oxygen mask on my face and performed a dozen small tasks behind and around my head.
This was one of many procedures that was frightening, stressful, and cumulatively destroying my mental health.
Just days after I was discharged, I took the family to Chicago for Thanksgiving. Made the arrangements, got the train tickets, hotel, restaurant reservations, museum tickets, everything. I still had a PICC line in my arm, for injecting antibiotics four times a day.
I see this picture of us out at Thanksgiving dinner and I see a woman trying so hard to keep it together, to carry on as “normal”, to even inject some fun and adventure for our little troop.
She’s tired. Tired of cancer treatment, tired of mistreatment, tired of the set backs. Tired of the selfish, petty family bullshit that left her on her own, unsupported, to “save” family Thanksgiving.
She doesn’t know it yet, but after one more traumatic, disastrous hospitalization she’s going to make some big changes.