Day -13, Wednesday

In my hospital room, recovering from my procedure. The screen saver on the right side features Drs Fauci & Dr Holland, their families and other NIH staff holding up THANK YOU signs for NIH essential workers. I’m smiling because I’m in great company. And the pain meds have yet to wear off.

Today I had my triple-lumen Central Venous Cather placed via my right jugular vein, and my eighth bone marrow biopsy. Blood draws at 7 am, followed by an 8 am check-in with Intravenous Radiology, and by 9:30, I was in the procedure room, babbling to my nurse anesthetist about backpacking in the desert SW and…. wait for it….. the airport in Jackson Hole, WY.

For the record, I’ve never been to Jackson Hole, WY.

My wake up in the post-op room wasn’t quite as interesting, but I did ask Griffen, my nurse, where in North Carolina he was from. All five times, he answered the same – Hickory. I also listened to the comforting beep of my heart rate monitor; as I dozed off, my heart rate would dip below 40, sounding and alarm, promptly waking me up. And so the cycle continued.

By 12:30 I was wheeled up to 3NE, where, coincidentally, I will be admitted next week. Because I don’t have anyone in town with me currently, my Team wanted to keep me overnight in the hospital for observation. As this is the first time my jugular has been pierced and a catheter placed towards my heart, I can’t say that I mind.

In terms of discomfort, well, there’s a bit. The pain meds do help, but interestingly enough, I can’t take any Tylenol or Motrin – just oxycodone because of my Busulfan (Chemotherapy) test tomorrow. Its the same for my other medications, except for the blood thinner and antibiotic. But discomfort wise – well, my neck is a bit stiff and my head doesn’t seem to want to turn all the way. I know my body will adjust – it just takes time. And seriously, no burpees, pushups or anything of the sort. Pre-procedure, I had hoped to sneak in another run or two before being admitted long-term; however, feeling the way I do now, it’s a no go. Walking seems much more practical. And safer.

So I think I’ll end it there. Meds just kicked in, and I’m going to do us ALL a favor and stop typing. I do want to say with my entire heart – catheter, lumens and all – thank you to everyone for your support and lovely comments. I read them all and they mean so much. This is so challenging – being away from family, friends, loved ones – but the comments help me to feel like I’m not alone.

How does one get into one’s hospital bed with a new triple-lumen Cath? Carefully, grasshopper, very carefully…

  1. You are never alone. Angels surround you in love and we are with you in spirit. Hugs to you and sweet dreams….goodnight. ✌❤🙏


  2. You asked the recovery nurse where he was from 5 times? Sounds about right, people recovering from sedation/anesthesia is always a bit like talking to someone who is really hammered lol. It’s fun. Great job today, enjoy your narcotics!


  3. Uffda!’ So many procedures you have to endure. After all that, you were so upbeat when we did FaceTime. You are so impressive! Keep on keeping on.
    I am so happy that you are my daughter.


  4. Oh, oh❤️ So sorry you have to go through all this, Marit. Everyday I’m frustrated I can’t be with you. You are so much to me than my incredible daughter: you’re also my hero, my belief in goodness, my inspiration, my musical muse, my hope for the future, my model for living, my model for forgiveness and my model for living.


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