It Might Get Messy

“Port”. There’s a word replete with meanings. The best one, from my perspective, is the rich, fortified wine from Portugal. Grown in warm valleys upriver of the estuarine town of Porto, and blended on the left bank of the river in a section of wine houses almost as large as the rest of the town, it is in all its forms from white to ancient vintage absolutely delicious. As we convinced ourselves by spending an entire day walking around and sampling the ports in each of the houses. 

Porto was, I assume, an actual port at some point. Presently it is wine village and tourist town, quiet, attractive and delicious. One day Molly and I walked from the mouth of the river at the ocean beach upstream to the city. Fabulous hike. Made better by a soup-and-bread lunch in a taberna overlooking the tide wall.

What we need to consider here is a medical port. This is a catheter (“portable catheter” or “portacath”) that runs from the outside world directly to a major vein somewhere inside. I actually had a permanent one placed in my chest a couple years ago, but it wasn’t functioning properly. So, when my veins collapsed and could no longer be accessed as needed, a port was placed in my shoulder (apparently a relatively innovative position, see http://donnapeach.com/2010/07/07/portacath-placement-in-shoulder-instead-of-chest/). The catheter ran from the top of my shoulder joint into my pericardial sac, presumably ending somewhere in my superior vena cava, see:

(http://www.uwhealth.org/healthfacts/B_EXTRANET_HEALTH_INFORMATION-FlexMember-Show_Public_HFFY_1116944249855.html).

Now. This is close proximity to the heart. A situation with some inherent danger. One afternoon, the nurse changing the dressing (has to be done in a sterile field) felt the catheter move. She panicked. An X-ray was called for. Sure enough, the tip of the catheter had driven deeper into the heart, to the point where it threatened immediate infarction (interruption of blood flow). Mind you, at this point early in the first week in the hospital, I was in severe pain, deeply depressed, barely functional.

An emergency team, sort of a cardiac SWAT squad was called in. They laid me down, spread a sterile blanket over my face and torso, and went to work. I’m not completely certain what they did. I know it involved massive pain and discomfort. And two more X-rays. I managed to get someone to ask about the relative risk of the carcinogenic X-irradiation vs. the slipped catheter. They said no question, the catheter was a more drastic and immediate threat. 

When they were finished, I had a safe port again, which was used over the next 2 ½ weeks to draw blood, infuse blood, inject meds, etc. Last thing  before I left the hospital, a specialist came in and yanked the port. This time it didn’t hurt at all.

Everyone, I’m getting stronger every day. Love you all. I’m gradually crawling back enough to start getting into my email and other contacts. Keep those prayers, thoughts and good wishes comin’ in—I’m gonna need ‘em. We’ll find out how MUCH I need them next week, after the CT Scan of my lungs. I’ll let you know!