One of the last vestiges of chemotherapy left me today – my port.
When my oncologist initially suggested removing it, I actually hesitated a little. What if I’m not really done? What if I need more chemo? Will I be able to have another one put in? Do I want to go through that surgery again?
So I waited until after radiation was over. And after that, for some reason, I had a mind shift. All of a sudden, I wanted the port gone. I’ve never liked the little lump on my chest, and being able to feel the tube where it went over my collarbone really bugged me. And even months after putting it in, if you whacked it just right, it was painful.
So this morning they yanked it out. Up to the minute they put me on the table, I was impatient. I just hate waiting around, and it felt like I’d just been there, done it, and was waiting for it all to be over. And the concept that it takes nearly three hours of waiting for an operation that takes 15 minutes really started to drive me nuts.
But it’s gone and done. I think I’m going to have an electrical outlet tattooed over it after it heals.