The port came out on Tuesday.
This feels like another little victory for me; it means that chemo is officially finished.
It was a doctor’s office procedure done under a local anesthetic. I was a nervous wreck. I thought he would at least give me some “don’t-give-a-shit” medication but all he did was numb the general area of my port, then made an incision, cut the two stitches holding the port in place, and pulled the thing out. He and the nurse talked to me about this and that throughout the procedure, which did help to calm me. I had to think about something other than what he was doing. He asked me if I wanted to see the port in place, before he took it out; naturally I said no. He showed it to me once it was out. It looked like the button for a doorbell, but with a long, thin tube hanging from it. Three minutes of pressure (well, it was at least that; the clock in the room had stopped!) and some stitches, and he released me into the wild. The stitches are the dissolving kind, so I don’t have to go back.
I didn’t feel anything — until the anesthetic wore off about 11 pm. That’s when the incision started to hurt. It bothered me all night and half of yesterday. It’s OK now. I’ve been working on finding a place to live in my new job city, and sitting here at the computer is not as uncomfortable as it was yesterday.
Next week, I see my oncologist, and that will mark the end of this phase of my cancer journey. Then it’s just growing my hair back and adjusting to a new job in a new state.