- Peace for Shawn and I, for Kyle and Miranda and Braden and Connor, for our parents and siblings and nieces and nephews and inner circle friends watching and hurting as we go through this
- that God would keep soft our children's hearts toward Him through all the emotions of this hard journey
- strength and stamina; physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually
- that the cancer shrinks to gone, gone, gone!
- gentle side effects to this second round of chemo
- family unity, harmony, love, strength, joy, happiness
- anything else you feel God puts on your heart

Friday, January 4, 2013

Port: inserted

This was me about 10 minutes after waking up from my port insertion.  So glad it was over, so incredibly grateful that I slept through the procedure.  God is good, really really good, all the time!
I woke at 4am this morning (toilet) and then there were so many vehicles coming and going and running their engines to warm up from that point til about 7am that I could not sleep.  And my back was sore, and my nerves were a little high though not unwieldy.  And I finally fell asleep at about 8am and was awakened at 9am and then layed in bed watching tv til 10am because I just did not want to start this day.  Finally got motivated, got the kids motivated, got Shawn motivated and everyone into the van.  Got to Mom and Dad's to drop kids for the day, couldn't even make eye contact, the sheer effort to get myself willingly to the appointment was all I could do.  It seems silly to you maybe, but this is my process and there is definitely a pattern as I sort through emotions and realities of parenthood and logistics of four kids and a husband and the feelings of confusion, shock that this is really happening, knowing that I believe the port is the right choice and wondering why I'm so freaked about it, wondering if I will wake up claustrophobic with this thing permanently in me and beyond my control for months or even years.  All just too much.  I shut everything out.  It may look like I am in denial, I am not, I am filtering and processing in small chunks because all at once would send me to the heavy drugs and the psychiatric ward, I honestly couldn't handle it all in one swoop.
Got to the hospital a little early, tears flowing down my face, why did I bother trying to look less pathetic by adding mascara?  Shawn prayed.  Tears flowing down my face, my husband pleading to our Lord on my behalf, on our behalf, for our kids and our extended family and friends.
Got signed in, got sent over to Intervention Radiology.  Nurse met us at the door.  Me in a quiet voice, "I'm freaking out".  Her, "You're freaking out?  We'll take it nice and slow."  Got into the blue gown, once again.  Climbed into the bed, resisting the warm blanket because I wasn't ready to submit to the process yet.  Nurse came over to take my info, "Has anyone explained to you about the procedure?"  Me so quiet, "No, no one has told me anything, I don't know what's going on.  I am freaking out."
She will explain it, she will tell me what is happening, she explains that the port is a good thing and I will be so glad for it, that every nurse agrees they would have it, "but I've never had one..." that's always the qualifier than loses her a few points in my book.  "The last five people I spoke to said it was horrible... " I said with tears streaming as the doctor came to assess.  "Don't listen to hear-say, we have patients who don't even feel a thing...the worst part is the pinch of anesthetic...only as bad as the dentist..."  My thought, "It never hurts at my dentist..." and the doctor drops a point or two but I appreciate his effort.  Young guy, very nice, very patient to hear my concerns and explain the procedure.  And then we wait.  Two hours behind because of an emergency procedure.  I was praying for whoever that was.
Nice nurse turns the lights down, closes my curtains, brings more warm blankets and tells me to fall asleep.  Me, "I don't want to sleep yet, I want to sleep on the table..."  Her, "you will."
And then there is a bag of antibiotics added to my IV and the guy comes to wheel me out to the surgery room.  Kisses to Shawn, calm to me... nurses join us and start setting up the sterile stuff.  My nurse is here with meds, she explains that they will make me sleepy, dopey and happy... "Snow White is here," she says.  "I just want to sleep through it, that's my only goal for the day." Tears start, I can feel a big cry pushing to break forth, my nurse comes and tells me that she sees how strong I am, that I can do this, my mind reaches out to God's peace, I am able to reel in the emotions, still my body so as not to upset the work being done.  They create a tent, scary with a hole at my neck, she gives me a little tiny bit of Snow White to help me calm... the doctor enters, and I fall asleep.  I didn't feel even the pinching, burning of the freezing.  I woke up almost 2 hours later.  This photo was taken around 4pm... we left the hospital fifteen minutes later.
My neck feels tight and my upper chest where they punctured the juggler and also where they inserted the port.  At first I couldn't sit upright, happily it was just the bandage taped in a way that pulled.  Tonight I am feeling a little sore, not unbearable, definitely exhausted.  I am so grateful for your prayers.  I am so very incredibly thankful that God granted me sleep through the procedure.  I have named my port Herman.  The name came to me in the quiet hour before my surgery.  Seems like an invited guest rather than a threat.  The nurses thought that was funny and called it Herman during set up.   I really had a calm about me all morning.  I felt all my feelings, I processed through the information and where I was with it all.  The nurse commented to me three separate times that I seem like a strong woman, that she can see me processing things which is so excellent and so many people never get around to that part.  I appreciated her kind words, not taking away from my need to cry, but supporting that tears are part of the process and validating this huge thing that is cancer.   A hard day, but a good day.  So many silver linings that were just the air around us.


  1. Oh Kristin, I am just praying as hard as I can for you that God's comfort will be your joy.

  2. I'm so glad that your procedure went well. I was praying for you continually throughout the day.

  3. You conquered the fear of the unknown, you did good Kris!!!
    Praying that you and Herman will have a good working relationship :)

  4. Thank goodness for sleep. I am so so glad for you. what an answer to prayer. Herman is my dad's name! A strong man of God. Seems like a good choice to me :)

  5. Are sure it wasn't Edward Cullen nibbling at your neck?

  6. You did it. So many huge things that have been overwhelming are behind you now and each step forward takes you closer to recovery.

  7. Kristin, you never cease to amaze me. I appreciate your bravery and honesty. Praying

  8. Young doctors make me feel old; but hey, at least they're working with the latest technology, right? ;) Snow White and Herman - could be a movie! Praying!

  9. Kristin - what an amazing, courageous woman you are. Thanks for your update as I was praying and wondering. Thanks for all the details and your honesty.
    Staying so present with yourself emotionally and being authentic, especially when it takes everything in you to do so - this is a gift.
    Echoing Kori's hope (above) that you and Herman develop an excellent working relationship.... hugs, Devana

  10. I had tears coming to my eyes when I read what you it is OVER! Relish in that! I had a laugh come out at one point...Chris has an Uncle Herman! He is a wonderful man full of life and love for our Saviour! He actually lives around the corner from you! Too funny! Don't ever stop writing...I cherish every post! LOVE YOU! HUGS

  11. I prayed and cried while I read. What a tremendously amazing person God made you. Thanking him!

  12. Praying for you and your family.


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