My dad took me to my appointments on Thursday 20th June. We turned up in Radiology having no clue what time my appointment was, who with, or what it was for.
Luckily the receptionist knew. I was there for 1.45 but my appointments weren't until 2.30 and 3.30. Luckily cancer patient VIP status appeared to have kicked in again as the lists were magically rearranged and soon I was talking to the vascular radiologist (I think) who would insert my port. Another consent form. Risks included punctured lung. That had never happened to this doctor before though, so sign me up again!
The procedure would be carried out under local anaesthetic. The doctor explained that some people (crazy people I assume) prefer to be awake and aware during the process and others like to be sedated. I informed him I was firmly in the sedation camp and he asked me if I had ever heard of Propofol. I had, vaguely, but could not work out when. He reminded me it was also known as "magic milk", the late Michael Jackson's drug of choice. Say no more, I agreed to that straightaway and told him I wanted enough to send me in to sleep mode. But not dead mode, obv.
There would be two incisions and scars. What? Scarring on my completely blemish free and bountiful cleavage??!
I then saw a nurse, had my obs done and the standard MRSA screening. I thought I was free to go but then I was sent to Heart and Lung for my first ever ECG. That was over and done with really quickly too and dad took me home.
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