I shuffled to the kitchen, turning on the coffee maker, waiting for my body and mind to catch up to the chatter coming from Kaylee, sitting at the kitchen table. The sun still hadn't made its way to our kitchen window sitting above the sink. A loud yawn enters the kitchen before my sleepy husband makes his way into the room to join us. The coffee grinder fills the cozy room with too much noise for conversation. I wait for the grinding to stop, replaced by the sound of water filtering through the fresh ground beans to say, "I had the worst dream last night." I hand the warm, steaming cup of coffee to my husband, pushing the grind and brew button again.
"What did you dream?" He inquired, sipping his coffee.
I went on to explain the dream I had (some said in code or miming to shield the little ears at the kitchen table). My port was accessed in my dream, but rather than the normal Huber needle and tubing, a tube as thick as my thumb was hanging directly from my port. I went to change the IV bag, but realized when the bag was removed I had nothing to clamp the open ended tubing. In a bizarre turn of events, my port became a vacuum, sucking air from the room into my port. This was a terrifying discovery as too much air pushed (or in this impossible case, sucked) into a port can lead to death. I shouted to my husband to grab some empty syringes and as he quickly unwrapped them I frantically tried to pull air from my port, until I saw it draw back blood, proof the air was removed from the internal tubing of my port. However, every time I removed the needle my port vacuum continued to suck up room air. It was a never ending cycle of pulling the air out of the tube, only to have it suck back in. The dream ends unresolved, as dreams often do.
My husband seemed a little more surprised by my dream than I expected. I have been known to have very vivid and bizarre dreams and this, although not my happiest of dreams, was no more or less bizarre than a pretty typical dream for me.
My husband's eyes grew wide and he told me, "I had almost the same exact dream two nights ago!" His dream differed slightly in that my tubing was cracked which was the cause of air getting into my port, but still the basic theme of a port filling with air and certain death was the exact same.
I guess when you have been married long enough even your nightmares start to match!