The Big Day
I know there are lots of people who love their ports, who barely notice them, who keep them for years. I would wager that most of these folks are plumper than I am. Lean people tend to feel more pain and discomfort from their ports. Our skin has to stretch tautly over the protrusion, and our ports are more hideously visible. We don't have enough adipose tissue to anchor them firmly in place so they slide around which can be extremely irritating. But none of the doctors I spoke to in my campaign to have the damn thing removed seemed to be aware of this distinction. The chemo nurses, of course, are well aware of the difference.
Anyway, it's not going to be a big deal surgery. I don't need to bring a designated driver, and I'm allowed to eat breakfast before my appointment. The procedure is performed under a local anesthetic and should take about 45 minutes (though there will certainly be a two to four hour wait for it to start). Then they'll stitch me up, tape me together, and send me home a Brand New Normal Person again!
Of course I'm acutely aware that there's an unpleasantly high chance that I'll have to turn right around and have it put back in again, if my August scans don't bode well, or if my daily checks suddenly reveal an enlarged node. I wish they had taken it out when I first asked, back in April, so I could have spent the last three months working out and building up my stores of lean body mass, replacing the muscle and bone I lost during chemo so I'll be stronger if I do need to go through treatment again. Because if there is a next round of treatment, believe me it's going to make the first round look like a Sunday picnic in the park.
But even knowing how disconcertingly high the odds are that I'll need a new port someday, I'm still so exceedingly happy about having this one taken out tomorrow, I'm about to explode with joy! Stay tuned for magnificently gory suture pics.
Ridiculously happy person