Well, my friend/foe Mort the port has been installed. He’s on my left side a couple inches below my collarbone, under the skin. That general region is pretty sore, like a dislocated shoulder or something. This is where they will access my circulatory system for my IV chemo. They do this because veins get sick of being stuck and they can stop cooperating, which, I’m told is kind of terrible. Hence, Mort.
I got some truly excellent news yesterday. My prayer was answered and I’m going to be able to take one of my cancer drugs orally. The original plan was to give me one IV drug at the cancer treatment center every two weeks, then send me home with a fanny pack attached to my port via tubes and wires, to deliver a kind of chemo. For 48 hours.
Let back up for a second and talk about the fanny pack. Umm. Unless it’s 1991 and we’re at Kennywood, no. Just no. Also, I have a four year old. She is already pissed that I can’t lift her up for three more weeks. (After major abdominal surgery, for six weeks you can’t lift anything heavier than a gallon of milk.) She also has to be careful around my incision – once she accidentally slapped me right in the belly. I almost cried and she actually did because she felt so bad. Now, with this possibility of the chemo-from-the-comfort-of-home fanny pack, the poor kiddo would have had to worry about getting caught in my spider web of chemo tubes for two days at a time. So, instead (THANK YOU, Lord) I have to take a bunch of pills everyday. I’m fine with that. Now, I still have to go and get regular chemo at the treatment center but it’s only once every THREE weeks instead of every two. And one final blessing to report: I was going to have to pay a crazy amount in copays for this oral med every few weeks. But somehow, they made it so it’s much less. Cancer is expensive, folks. So I’ll take it!
Mort and I are getting used to each other. He’s a little pinchy. But he’s going to be an ally in this battle. So we’re going to be friends.