In the morning, a surgical oncology fellow came to see me. She asked me in a scolding tone why they had drained my seroma and inserted a drainage catheter. She asked me if I had any pain or sign of infection. I said no, I had discomfort, but not pain, and I didn't know why they decided to drain it. She said any time any insertion takes place it introduces a risk of infection, and a seroma is normal and will go away on its own. I told her I had no way of knowing this and that maybe they should have had a doctor examine me, instead of a nurse.
She told me my options were to get another drainage catheter or to open and drain the abscess. I said I wanted them to do the most aggressive possible thing to resolve the issue because I was stuck in a no man's land between diagnosis and treatment, and my chemo had already been postponed multiple times. She told me I would have to have twice daily wound care and asked me if I could do it. It would be impossible to maneuver your hands to do that to yourself, so it was a bit of an odd question, but I told her I was confident someone would help me with it. She said the operating room was fully booked due to the holiday weekend, and they would try to get me in as an "add-on," but it might need to wait until the next day.
About an hour later, another resident came in. He said they had called my surgeon and he told them they could perform the procedure in my room. My regular nurse told me the resident was excellent and would do a great job. He returned a little later with a cart and a surgical nurse to assist him. The procedure was done under local anesthetic and afterward I immediately felt very relieved.
My ex-husband brought my son to visit me later and while they were there the nurse came in to perform wound care. I told my son it wouldn't hurt my feelings if he wanted to go out in the hall while they did that, but he decided to stay in the room. I felt very proud of him. It also made me realize that he wants to have all the facts and information about what is going on.
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