Press and Sealed

Press and Seal, You're the One,

Making Bathing Poss-i-ble!

(to the tune of Rubber Duckie, of course!)

Who knew Press and Seal was so versatile?

For the most part I'm used to the port and it's serving a tremendous purpose right now. So while I still get frustrated with the limitations it places on me and the self-consciousness I feel over it, it's an amazing tool for my healing.

The things that still frustrate me are:

1. Not being able to lie on my stomach for my massages. (This may seem like a little thing, but my massages are so key to keeping the toxins moving, not to mention my mental health!)

2. Not being able to lie comfortably on my left side. (My left side is my go-to side for stopping an ANS storm. I can sort of lie on my left side...I just have to do it very carefully!).

3. Not being able to get a bath on my own and all that goes into getting a bath.

Also a touch disconcerting is the sound of the plastic from the huber needle access against the plastic of the dressing. Crinkling and whistling sounds of plastic coming from my upper chest are a bit strange! Thankfully, I really don't think anyone else can hear it!

Getting a bath at the end of each day was always, literally, one of the best parts of my day in the last few years. Before my surgery I savored my baths, and was grateful we weren't one of the many thousands locally who had lost power during the three days before my port insertion!

So here's what getting a bath with an accessed port is like for me. I share this because it's really difficult to capture what things are like these days.

Essential items:

Scissors (Mom is dangerous with these!)

Waterproof Tape

Press and Seal

Plastic Garbage Bags

Mom covers the port with a square of Press and Seal, trims the excess, and then tapes it down with waterproof tape. The second photo shows one of the covers after I took it off.

She cuts a hole in a clear garbage bag, I put it over my head and wear the darned thing. We tape it to make sure it is closed tight at the neck. I expect you'll see this new fashion on the runways this fall.

The ultimate goal: Keeping the port site from getting wet.

Mom washes my hair.

Asher tries to help. He LOVES the taste of soap.

Mom cuts off the plastic bag, washes my back, and as long as I'm feeling well enough I finish getting a bath myself. On really bad days she bathes me.

Thankfully, I do have Mom to give me a bath and I don't have to have different people seeing me and washing me.

Still, I dread getting baths now. I hate that it's one more thing for Mom to do at the end of the day. I hate that we have to schedule it. I hate that I can't let the water run over the back of my neck. I hate that I can't have privacy.

The loss of dignity and the dependence hit me hard every time I get a bath.

My body has become something that doctors and nurses look at. They marvel at how unusual my case is. I'm poked and prodded. I bare my chest for the nurse each week when she comes to change the huber needle. My mom bathes me. I have a big plastic port sticking out. I'm pale and exhausted. My hair is dull and unkempt.

I wonder how one goes through such an experience and maintains any sense of beauty or dignity? I have certainly lost those. I wonder if I will ever feel beautiful in this body again?

Blessings,

Emily

Photos: The essentials for getting a bath these days; the cover that goes over the port.