Healing and Hustling with Zandra

Today was port placement day. I was scared, but you wouldn’t know it from looking at me. I wanted to cry, but I wouldn’t let the outside world see my tears. I had to keep the brave front for everyone.

Melissa picked me up promptly at 5:15 a.m. Our trip was uneventful, though we hit a little traffic due to construction. When we arrived at the hospital, the first stop was labs. Melissa’s reaction to the beauty of the hospital building made me smile. I must admit, for a hospital, it’s a stunning place. The labs were quick—just a blood draw to check my platelet count. Then we made our way to the Mayo building, still admiring the architecture.

Once there, Melissa found a comfy spot to wait while I checked in and was prepped for the procedure. As much as I try to remember the names of everyone involved in my care, it’s impossible. However, a few names stood out today: my nurse Julie, Tattooed Nicole from sedation, Dr. Aurora, and Costa—the guy with the dreamy eyes who checked my veins.

As usual, the team was thorough, and before long, it was time for the procedure. I was wheeled across the hall to the procedure table, moving from the bed in the post-op recovery room. There were so many people in the room, each with a job to do. It felt like a big production, and I was the star. Lights shining down, red carpet rolled out—I was the superstar, right? I mean, this is probably the closest I’ll ever get to the Grammys. I imagined the crowd roaring as I was wheeled into the room.

They built a tent over my head, leaving me just enough of a view through an opening to my right where I could talk to Nicole. They prepped my chest area, and then, silence. That’s when the panic set in. I still felt completely “normal”—not sedated, not anything. I asked Nicole, “Have you sedated me yet? I feel the same.” She reassured me that she hadn’t, and that they wouldn’t until the doctor entered the room. Moments later, the doctor’s voice called my name, and I imagined him announcing, “And the winner is… Zandra!” Cue the crowd’s roar.

The next thing I knew, my eyes opened to someone applying pressure to my chest. Wait, what just happened? Did Nicole even tell me she was sedating me? I couldn’t remember. I thought I’d be semi-awake, at least aware of the procedure. But no—nothing. It was as if I’d been out for hours, though the whole thing only took 20 minutes.

The event was over, and I made it back home. Later that evening, as the pain meds wore off, the soreness set in. I countered it with ibuprofen and drifted in and out of a restless sleep. Right now, I can’t see the end of this journey—but I know it’s out there somewhere.