Tomorrow morning at 7 am, Toby will be anesthesized and have the central line taken out of his chest, where it has lived for the last 14 months. We've gotten used to his tubies and Toby plans to ask Dr. Laquaglia if he can take them home in a little plastic bag.
More than a year ago as we sat in the nuclear medicine basement at NYU my brother tried to explain what a central line looked like. I remember his strange words, gently falling on uncomprehending ears: "it's like spaghetti noodles, coming out of his chest." With noodles gone, Toby will be able to shower and swim, he won't have to endure painful bandage changes, and we'll finally be able to retire the safety pins that have riddled all his shirts with crazy patterns of holes.
The line will be replaced by an under-the-skin mediport, and a few hours later Toby will receive chemo through a new delivery system.
Ed Clark, Christmas Guest
1 year ago