saturday night

Since it’s a Saturday night, I decided to get a little crazy and remove the dressings that were covering my port. The tape yanked at my skin, which is a sensation I have become all too familiar with, but I soldiered on. At one point, I thought I saw an actual gaping hole in my neck as I continued to tear off the bandage and I was about five seconds from passing out. It ended up just being the way the light was hitting the skin beneath the dressing, creating a shadow. Crisis averted. Repeat: There is no giant open hole in my neck. Very glad about this.

My skin was bright red, which I assumed was from the antiseptic stuff they paint on the area pre-surgery. I tried washing it off and realized that was no dye, but rather the actual colour of my poor, abused skin. I also have some little blister bumps around the incisions. This is not at all shocking to me, as I have learned via many weird and mysterious rashes that my skin, just like me, HATES cancer.

Here’s a pic, for those who enjoy some illustration.


I learned today that I was given a whole package about my port when I left the hospital. I had no memory of receiving it, because drugs do strange things to the memory and I had received a whack-load of drugs.

I flipped through it, and noticed this extremely happy fellow on the front of the brochure.

“Ports are so much fun! High five!”

Look how happy he is! I’d say he’s even laughing a bit. As if ports are just the bee’s knees. I’ve noticed this on lots of various cancer-related brochures and websites. People always look so darn happy. Do they know something that I don’t? Is cancer actually this big super fun party where everyone is smiling and dancing and giving each other high fives? I can only hope.

The package also included a card, key ring, and an extremely attractive bracelet so that the whole world can know I have a port inserted underneath my skin.

Don't mess with me and my power port!
Don’t mess with me and my power port!

All in all, I was pretty satisfied with the port package as a whole, especially because I got some freebies out of the whole deal. As a cancer patient, you get endless handouts full of information (although most don’t include bizarre bracelets). Every procedure, surgery, treatment, side effect, etc., gets its own handout. It can all be pretty overwhelming. In fact, I have an entire box that is overflowing with cancer-related paper and binders.

This used to be my wedding box. Now it’s my cancer box. Life is weird.

So now I have to make a new folder to add to the pile, which will be labeled “port stuff”. I will refer to it whenever I want to be reminded that cancer can’t be all that bad, because the doctor on the front of the pamphlet is smiling, and doctors know best.