So. As Bob reported, I’m at Park Nicollet Methodist Hospital, after being admitted Sunday with a bad bacterial blood infection likely caused by my chemo port. When I had my first chemo infusion, I asked my oncologist what I needed to be doing to protect myself from infections. He told me it’s most common to see infections sprouting from the bacteria that already live on our bodies. Fast forward 19 days, and here we are.
After our Fergus Falls Emergency Department visit Wednesday night, the days passed with antibiotics in my body yet no improvement. We left the cabin a few days earlier than planned and drove straight to the Methodist ER in Minneapolis (St. Louis Park, technically). It’s about a 2 hour and 45 minute drive. I told Bob to drop me off and take the pets home, but he insisted on coming in. The ER doc recognized me – I’d seen him before, the last time I was in the Emergency Room. I was having heart palpitations over the stress of navigating the cabin build, and I had breasts. And hair. I don’t care if his “memory” was helped by reviewing my chart; I certainly remembered him as a very capable professional and told Bob he could leave to take the pets home with the assurance I’d be in good hands while he was gone. No need to rush back.
After we got the results of initial tests in the ER, I was admitted to the hospital Sunday evening. Monday was dedicated to lots more tests, and the surgical removal of my port in my chest. My port got infected by opportunist bacteria that was likely already living on my skin, that sprang into action when it saw a literal opening. And since my immune system was compromised from the chemo, my body wasn’t able to fight it, even with the help of the antibiotics I got in Fergus Wednesday night.
It was an exhausting day after an uncomfortable night, and I was feeling pretty shitty throughout. I was excited to get settled for bed Monday night. I got up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, and was horrified by what I saw in the mirror: there was a giant hole in my chest and my guts were leaking out.
I nearly passed out as I realized what had happened: as I was going to sleep, I alerted my nurse that my surgery site was itching, but since it wasn’t turning red, we decided it was probably okay. I then clawed it open while I slept. Turns out they pack those wounds with fabric tape treated with an anti-bacterial agent. The tape was poked way up into the channel where the port had gone up through my chest. When I tore it open, I ripped much of the tape out while some was still attached. It was soaked with blood and looked like guts; I admit, more like a section of Raggedy Andy’s bowel than anything that would make sense springing from my chest, but I really wasn’t expecting it and it really was shocking.
Today the prediction for discharge is Friday. It’s a moving target.