I get to my 7:30 AM appointment to see JC. She needs to attach a catheter to my port. What’s a port you ask?

“A port is a small medical appliance that is installed beneath the skin. A catheter connects the port to a vein. Under the skin, the port has an area through which drugs can be injected and blood samples can be drawn many times, usually with less discomfort for the patient than a more typical “needle stick.” (Thanks Wikipedia) This picture shows what and where it is, but it is under the skin. The circular part in the middle is where the needle goes, it is just under the skin.

With a four inch catheter hanging from the port, I go to my 8:00 with the oncologist.

I am rather upset that the original oncologist, the one I met at the “Cerberus” meeting, is out on unexpected maternity leave. Well, unexpectedly early. I really liked her and she made a difference, but she is now replaced by another doctor. Multiple people assure me I will like him. And so I meet him …

Really nice guy, on the young side (aren’t they all), fantastic pedigree and education. He will do.

The chemo drug I will be getting is called Fluorouracil. Because there is a fluorine atom on the 5th carbon of a uracil ring, the drug is often referred to as “5-FU” … my favorite fun-fact about 5-FU is this:

There is very little difference between the minimum effective dose and maximum tolerated dose of 5-FU, and the drug exhibits marked individual pharmacokinetic variability.

Yeah, that sucks. The amount of the drug needed to work is very close to the maximum you can tolerate AND it is almost impossible to figure out what that dose is.

I will be getting this for about 6 weeks, 24/7. It is 10% of the strength of “regular” chemo (I will get that later). For now the goal is to sensitize the cancer cells as much as possible to the radiation so the radiation is more effective. They only do this with certain cancers, and mine qualifies.

Meet my new friend, “Effyou” 

To give you some perspective, it is just a tad bigger than my iPhone 5 (yeah, I know, but it works) and significantly thicker. It is attached to a mini IV bag, about the same size as the unit, that has a full week of poison medication in it. Everyone needs to name their pump, so the Internet tells me, hence “Effyou.”

There are two primary ways to keep the pump with you; in a “fanny pack” / purse, or in a “PoppyPocket” (an elastic band with pockets, shown here on Mr. Poppy I presume). Because I often need to get up in the middle of night to deal with Pearlsky, I worry about putting the pump on the nightstand and just walking away (ouch). I will sleep with it in a PoppyPocket on my stomach, I do not sleep on my stomach, it should work. I have ordered a Spongebob patch for my black fanny pack that I will be using during the day. Why not?

You may be wondering how I shower with the port being attached to an electronic device that is attached to me. Yeah, I wonder about that as well. The tubing is six feet long and they say to hang the pump outside the shower. I also need to cover the area around the port and keep it all dry. People use Saran Wrap and tape, Press ‘N’ Seal, etc.

Personally, I think I just won’t shower for the next 6 weeks. F U

Meet my friend, TrueBeam; we are dating, everyday for 6 weeks. This is the device they use to radiate tumors, and I have to admit that the engineer in me thinks it is cool. The cancer in me is not as enthralled, at least I hope not.

The poor schmuck patient lies on the table (black and red thing), and the table moves into the center-ish of the device. Those two “wings” fold in and the entire machine (that you see) turns around the table (takes maybe 20 seconds). The round part is where the beam comes out.

The technicians are in another room at monitors. The first spin of the machine apparently gives the techs a view of my viscera and they can see exactly where the beam will land. If it is good, the next spin radiates me.

This is the table, I lie face down. They do cover it with a sheet (where was this table when I needed it?) A small wedge/pillow is put on the red end and my “belly” goes over the large opening. The goal is to move my small intestine out of the way, so it would hang somewhat in that opening. Trouble is, I don’t have much of a belly. The two concave carve-outs are for my thighs, and yes, the cup is for the family jewels. Which, when done with all this radiation, will be more costume jewelry than anything else.

A couple of weeks ago I was in a different machine that they use for positioning. I moved around, they played with the machine, and then I got three tattoos. They are small blue dots, one near my tailbone, and one on each hip. When I get on this table, the machine projects a green crosshair and, guided by the tattoos, I am physically positioned the same way. Every time.

The other internal organ they like moved out of the way is my bladder. I need to show up with a full bladder each time, somehow that moves it out of the way. We want the machine to have a clear shot at the tumor.

Today did not go as planned. I get there on time with a full bladder. My turn comes up, I go in, get up on the table in my knees, drop my trousers and lay down bare-assed (they do their best for modesty, but if they want to see an old guy’s butt, ‘go for it’). They line up the dots and crosshairs and I try to lie still. That full bladder is not the most comfortable. The machine does one spin and then … nothing. A few minutes they come in and want to adjust my position, which they do by pulling the sheet under me, I am not supposed to help at all. Then one more spin. Nope, they come in and something about the angle of my hips. Another spin and a long wait. My guess is that they paged someone more experienced because they finally did some tilt of the table and we got a good scan. The last two days it was honestly a three minute procedure (table time), today was forty minutes. With a full bladder. It was not fun.

Remember I have Effyou, my pump, attached with its catheter, etc. Just getting off the table and picking up my pants (with attached fanny pack) takes longer than a proper scan.

There was a question as to if I was having a reaction to the bandage covering the port so I was sent to the chemo clinic. They changed the dressing and I need to go to them tomorrow before radiation.

Here is the new dressing.

I am thinking of starting a new line of costume jewelry … what do you think?