SOME ASPECTS of the Myeloma patient experience are so odd or new that they merit sharing.

So it is with The Danglers.

My brand-new  Central Venous Catheter was just implanted in my upper chest yesterday (Friday, Sept. 12). It connects to my superior vena cava, a major vein close to the heart. It will be used to administer medicines and withdraw and deliver blood and cells for my autologous stem cell transplant.

The “installation” was an outpatient surgical procedure at the University of Arizona Medical Center. It took about an hour. I was awake with just a little sedation, but I think I remember pretty much the whole process.

Lots of folks get CVCs for a variety of reasons, not just for transplants, so I was probably more excited than worried about it. Valerie came along, for extra courage and as my designated driver. I was glad she was able to stay with me and pretend to enjoy my lame jokes until they wheeled me in to the OR.

Goin’ for the Jugular

There, after a small injection of “happy juice” and a local anesthetic, they went straight for the jugular. Literally. The docs threaded a guide wire from a point on the right side of my neck down to the the desired location in the larger vein. Then they inserted the catheter (a narrow tube) to the same destination and finally connected it to an outlet point just below my right collarbone.

That’s an abbreviated description. You can’t feel most of it, other than a slight pinch from the first lidocaine shot, but you can hear some of the OR chatter, which was a little like a play-by-play. Since I am obsessively curious about all this I tried to pay attention. Besides, it made it easier to keep still.

In very little time, they completed the task and an OR nurse whipped out his iPad to show me the x-ray image of my new CVC, about 20 CM long and positioned perfectly above the heart. Wish I had that image to share. It was kinda cool.

Maybe half an hour later I had my shirt on and a free wheelchair ride while Val brought our car around. I could feel some items hanging from my upper chest and some annoying bandages that pulled on my skin a little,  but I still had no clue what my new feature looked like.

I finally got a chance to look closely in a mirror after we arrived home. Some other patients I’d seen have an internal style of port. What do you call these two things?

Is There a Joke to That Punchline?

This morning I went to the UA Cancer Clinic, a couple of miles from the main hospital, where I would receive my second daily dose of Neupogen. That’s the drug they administer to cause my bones to produce a plethora of new stem cells which we will harvest next week for my transplant. On this visit, my new CVC would also be checked and the dressings changed.

“I’ve noticed catheters worn by other patients I’ve met in the infusion room,” I told the terrific nurse who cared for me on this occasion, “But I did not expect to be outfitted with two danglers like I have here.”

“Did you say ‘danglers’?” she replied, laughing heartily. “That’s the first time anyone described them that way to me. I think I’ll have to use that from now on.”

So we agreed that “danglers” should be an addition to the cancer treatment lexicon. From the patient’s perspective, it felt good to give something back.

NEXT: Harvest Time

© Copyright 2014, James Tenser