My chest port has made treatment, hospital stays, and blood draws easier—but it is also a constant reminder of cancer.
My chest port has been a lifesaver in more ways than one.
It has made treatment, hospital stays, and blood draws easier—but it is also a constant reminder of cancer.
The bump just beneath my collar bone is often strategically covered by my shirt, swimsuit or dress so you can hardly notice it.
But I know it’s there, and so do my kids.
As much as my port has helped me, it still reminds my kids of cancer.
My port makes them cautious to hug me and reminds them of those scary times when mom was too ill to be with them.
I try to put on a brave face and show my kids that cancer—like any challenge—can be an opportunity for growth.
I made a point to not let having a chest port interrupt my ability to have fun or be active.
Since getting my port, I’ve played volleyball, gone swimming in pools and lakes, and even went on a Slip-N-Slide.
But now that I’m nearing two years since my last treatment, it’s time to get my chest port removed.
It’s a big milestone and a big step forward in my remission.
Before I began treatment in 2017, other cancer fighters urged me to get a chest port to help make my chemotherapy infusions easier on my veins.
It was not an easy decision because it required surgery to place the port-a-catheter in my chest and requires another surgical procedure to remove.
I have a difficult time with medical procedures and tend to pass out giving blood, so I was extremely worried about how I would be able to tolerate the procedure and months of treatment.
I’ll never forget how just reading about the Power Port I was going to have implanted in my chest caused me to pass out.
My body felt so fragile.
I wondered how much more I could take.
I doubted my strength.
I was so scared.
But my chest port ended up being one of the best decisions I made.
I put a numbing cream on before my port gets accessed, so I hardly feel it.
I found my chest port so helpful during treatment that I still have it in over two years into remission.
While my port was once a sign of illness and cancer, it has slowly grown into a vivid reminder of my power to overcome any challenge.
It’s taken me most of my life to become comfortable in my skin.
It took getting cancer for me to realize my strength and see beauty where I once only saw scars.
Since having my three kids and battling cancer, my waistline and appearance have changed so much—at times, I hardly recognize the new me.
It has been a journey learning to love my curves and see my scars as beautiful.
Cancer has helped me see my body in a whole new light.
Pain has an uncanny way of pointing your attention to what truly matters.
Cancer pushed me out of my deeply rooted comfort zone and helped me learn to accept the unknown and be at peace with great uncertainty.
Watching my body rapidly change and become scattered with scars and losing my hair during treatment was the start of my self-acceptance and greater self-love.
After all, feeling beautiful has nothing to do with what you look like.
True beauty radiates from within.
My port may be a sign I had cancer, but in the end, it’s a reminder cancer never really had me.
