Port

This is a picture of the thing they implanted in my chest to make chemotherapy easier.

Except my “port” is not orbiting in space, above a beautiful blue earth and purple nebula, as the picture suggests. My port is located under my skin, about an inch south of my left collar bone. A tube connects it to my heart, by way of a big vein in my chest.

It is also *not* the size of the earth. (The earth was, seriously, just not a good backdrop for this promo shot. I guess it’s probably hard to make this thing look cool, though. You gotta throw a nebula or an icecap or something like that in to hip it up.) It’s maybe 1/2 inch in diameter. It’s part of me now.

I also sort of doubt that mine is stainless steel like the picture, I believe they told me it was plastic – although I surely don’t know what the thing looks like under there.

If I didn’t have this port, they’d have to put the poisen cocktail straight into my arm. Getting chemo in the arm is the Dirty Harry, “Go ahead, make my day,” psychopathic way to get chemotherapy. This is especially true toward the end when they can't find a good vein. I had to have my first via the vein - that area is still tender - 3 weeks later. The nurses cringe when they talk about it, as if they don’t like giving it like that anymore than people like getting it like that. Something about blood clots, burned skin, melted veins…let’s not talk about it…

I suppose I’m grateful, then, for this funny looking thing sticking out of my chest. It looks pretty stupid, though. I can't wait until I am deported - that will mean this whole thing is over....