Last year, when I got my port installed, I was under conscious sedation and chatted the whole time. A paper towel-like cloth barrier was created so only my chest area was exposed. In other words, I was laying on my back and I faced left. Iodine was rubbed all over my chest and neck to sterilize the area. Also turning me an Oompa Loompa color. When my body buzzed with the sedation, the clock on the wall got crazy. Like Alice in Wonderland crazy and my eyes struggled to focus. My team was great and I was basically a drunk patient on the table chitchatting the whole time while the doctor pushed and pressed and smushed something into my chest. I left the hospital feeling sore but okay. I got home, had my keto smoothie and threw up about 10 minutes later. My chest was sore for several days and I was thankful for the numbing cream to use on my port the first time I had chemotherapy which was less than a week later. 

When my port was accessed for chemotherapy, the risk of infection is high and because of this, I would wear a mask and my oncology nurse would wear gloves, mask and a complete gown over their scrubs. Other than my oncology nurses, my port was rarely accessed. Instead, many nurses would forgo the easy access port to find a vein on my arm. The reasoning being the high risk of infection or they didn’t receive proper training. I wouldn’t push too hard because it didn’t bother me how you got my blood. Once my port area healed from being inserted, it was just a matter of not accidentally hitting it (particularly at the gym), always wearing a one shoulder bra, not being a passenger in the car with the seatbelt resting right over my port, not having a purse or backpack that might hit the port or rest on it, you get the drift. Accessing the port is like plugging something into an electrical outlet in both concept and feel since my port was plastic and the needle would just go through a thin layer of skin. When it was accessed, nurses would have to flush the line and the taste of heparin or saline would get to the back of my throat. In other words, I could taste it. Every time. My body involuntarily shivers. Not tasty. 0/10 would not recommend. But these are some of things you aren’t told but you learn and adjust.

Another check mark off the list in remission was my port removal. Yay! I did advocate for some anti-nausea medicine before the procedure. No throwing up for me this time. Other than waiting over an hour, the procedure went well. The nurses who prepped me were good-humored, were playing some Motown music and gave me a little extra sedation. Apparently, I seemed nervous. Umm, my bad, first time getting my port removed. I was not awake the entire time of the procedure and I’m okay with that. I did get to see my port and line. The line was much longer than I expected. Probably close to 8 inches. Pretty crazy. Especially when I saw various dribbles of blood on it. I got home and was sore, as expected. But when I was home, showing a friend, I realized the doctor did not cut through my initial port scar from when it was inserted. Rather, I have another “transverse incision.” So two scars around my port area. One line is a nice and clean diagonal cut and one line looks like my 8-year-old cut it. Doesn’t seem like a big deal. But to me, it’s another frustrating experience. Not like I can go back in time, while under conscious sedation and make sure they are cutting me in the right spot even though I was told they would go through my old scar. It is like a microcosm of my whole journey. It is frustrating, realizing how little control I do have and then choosing to move forward. Too bad I can’t get a discount for the extra scar but it does give me an even 10 physical scars for this journey. So the port is out and we are doing our best to keep on keeping on. 

Liz