In hindsight, I probably should have postponed today's doctor's appointment. I did want to go and see the Dr to make sure everything was healing nicely...just so I am not looking like Jaws attacked me inside or something.
I've been in pain a while now, right around my port. It's hard for me to bend over or lift anything. The Dr said it was normal, could be scar tissue, and it will just take some time to heal especially since I'm moving around more.
So, instead of using those MBA smarts I have and telling him I'll come back another day when I'm less sore, I decided to just go for it.
The Dr seemed to think it was ok to go for it as well. Which, with his track record, I'm not sure why I keep thinking he is the smartest tool in the shed. In the bedside manner, maybe you should heal first arena, he might be a taco short of a combination plate, bright as Alaska in December, the cheese slid off his cracker, etc etc etc.
So anyways, my fill was done in the office and took about 10 min tops. I laid down on the bed where he lifted my shirt a little (get your minds out of the gutter, this isn't some trashy novel with Fabio). My new favorite nurse gave me some kleenex because she knew I was going to cry, since you know, that's one of my hobbies.
The worst part of it was because I'm already in pain. He poked around and pressed around to find the port (OW) which hurt only because I'm still healing. Once he found the port, he numbed me, I felt some pressure while he poked around again (OW) and then, before I knew it, I was done. I have been salined. I really don't feel much different.
You're probably wondering where this Armando business comes in? Well if you weren't, you are now. I have decided that "the port" and "the band" seem so cold and unfeeling. I've decided to name the new addition to my body Armando.
Shhhhhh, that's enough talk for today. Armando is sleepy. And sore.