Holy shitsnacks. It’s been a year. In that time a lot has happened; I found out I had cancer, froze an embryo, had a port put in, started chemo, ended chemo, had my boobs removed then replaced with implants, continued herceptin, ended herceptin along with countless other scans and prodding.

So here we are, one year, one month, and a couple of days after my diagnosis, it’s been a physically and emotionally difficult time. But, I’ve been given the OK to get my port out. This is a huge step and tether to cut loose (literal and figurative).

From a purely practical perspective, I’m loath to lose my port since I have piss poor veins. I also don’t have a high threshold for being stuck multiple times, I’ve been known to pass out from time to time. It usually goes like this.

I say, “I’m a difficult stick plus I can only be stuck on my right side. My left side was my go-to but I’ve had lymph nodes removed.”

Hospital person says, “Oh, don’t worry. We’ll get this on one try.”

After the third attempt…

I say, “Wow, third time’s a charm right. Hmmm, I’m not feeling so good.”

Thud. I’m out.

So yeah, having a port, although uncomfortable at times, has been unbelievably helpful.

I’ll miss it. It was my tie to life as a professional patient and partially a cyborg. It made my life easier and for that I’m grateful.