Port-free

We returned to London this week to reach another significant milestone. The day started in the perioperative waiting room. This was incredibly nostalgic for me. This is the waiting room that I sat in with family back in May 2012 while we waited for Luis to come out of his biopsy procedure. The doctor confirmed that day that Luis had T-Cell Acute Lymphoblastic Lymphoma. It was fitting that the place where it all started is the place where it should end.

Luis was suited up in the hospital clothes. It had been a very long time since the first time he wore these clothes.

The week of diagnosis, May 2012. (This was before his port so he had an IV in his hand.)

Port removal day, March 2015

In that first week in May 2012, they inserted a port to save him a lot of agony over the course of his treatment. It allowed him to have a quick poke of the skin when the needle went into the port instead of digging in the arm to find a vein each time. Initially having his port accessed was a terrifying experience. He would scream at the top of his lungs and I would help a couple nurses restrain him so he could be accessed. After several months, he became much more accepting of the procedure and it was just something normal that we had to do.

 Luis having his port accessed (2014)

Luis was perfectly calm and cool in the time leading up to his procedure. The nurses on this floor were new to us and they were impressed by Luis' wit. They couldn't believe how smart and funny he was. We played cards, board games, and foosball. Then it was time.

I suited up in scrubs and went into the procedure room. This is the last bed ride. I got to watch him as he fell asleep. Then I waited. Within about an hour, I was brought to his bedside. The poor thing was in so much pain. The port was finally out. He had an incision in his chest and an IV in hand. The IV in his hand had bled a lot which also looked scary. For an hour or so, he cried. By the time we left he was in better spirits. I filled out special paper work so that Luis could keep his port. Here is the device that sat in his chest for nearly 3 years. We were fortunate that there were never any issues with infection.

Luis' Portacath (port)

This is a milestone. The chemo is done. His health is good. And the doctors are comfortable that he no longer needs his port. As the doctor said this week, he's cured. Amen.

--Mommy