The Thirty-First Tuesday (Wednesday): We Talk About Closure

Didn’t write yesterday so that I could write a post today. Hope you still had a great Tuesday, even though it wasn’t blessed by my poetic writing.

When something changes in life, we want closure. We want a moment that divides our previous lives from what’s to come. And for me, that moment happened today.

I finished chemo. I got my clear scan results. And today, I got my chemo port taken out.

This is the last step to putting this all behind me. Some doctors choose to keep their patient’s ports in for longer periods of time as a safety net, so that the port is in and ready to go just in case something doesn’t go according to plan.

My doctor told me that as soon as the surgeon had an open appointment, I was free to get this baby taken out. So naturally when they told me the first available appointment wouldn’t be until June, I called every day until someone cancelled, or they just got sick of my calls.

I hated the damn thing. But I loved it at the same time. It made chemo a little easier being that the nurses didn’t have to poke my veins, plus some of the chemo meds I was on can seriously mess up your veins, so a port was the best option. The doctor said you barely notice it, but I did. Every time I showered I was aware of it, every time I tried sleeping on my stomach I turned back over because it felt weird, every time I accidentally ran my hand over it I got the chills. It wasn’t the appearance that bothered me so much, it was more that it was a reminder of what was going on in my body. I actually didn’t even know what it looked like until I google imaged it. I was fascinated but also grossed out, honestly, and I don’t get grossed out easily.

However, today couldn’t have been any better. First off, the weather is amazing. I’m currently writing this as I’m sweating my face off in my back yard. As soon as I walked into the waiting room, one of the nurses who had been there the day of my biopsy, which was 9 months ago yesterday, came in to see me. She started balling. And then my mom started tearing up. And then I just got all the feels. She had randomly looked at the schedule yesterday and saw my name. She said all of the nurses downstairs wanted to say hello and wished me the best of luck. They had seen the article I wrote about nurses and were all incredibly moved. Seeing her and how much she cared for me confirmed that I had the best nurses these past couple of months. After giving her a goodbye hug, I knew I was ending this chapter of my book.

The procedure to take out the port took all of 15 minutes. The surgeon and I talked about running and one of the nurses had shown him the article I wrote. And then he asked me if I wanted to take the port home. I didn’t even think about doing that, but I thought it was kinda cool. He said it was like a diploma and I thought that was kinda funny. “Bachelors of Science in Showing Cancer Who’s Boss” Or maybe it’s my “Master’s Degree in Overcoming Shitty Situations.” Or maybe it’s just a port placed in a urine sample cup. Whatever.

The surgeon said really really nice parting words to me after he was done, he remembered the day I came into his office and the day of my biopsy, we hi-fived, and off I went.

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There it is, port in a urine cup

Everything came full circle today. I was at Overlook Medical Center today, not NYP, and this was where it all started. Where I heard the words “you have cancer.” I got to see the nurse that was there from the beginning. And even though I loved her and the surgeon, I hope I never have to see any of those people ever again (except that nurse grew up with my mom so maybe I will see her in the future LOL just hopefully not while she’s in scrubs).

So I walked out of the hospital with a grin on my face and a urine cup in hand because I was DONE! I could check this off of my list. I can shower normally, sleep on my belly, and show off this bad ass scar with some off the shoulder tops this summer.

I’ve already started the next chapter of my life. Today was the first day I went out of the house without something covering my head. And I kinda dig it. My hair naturally styles itself into a little fo-hawk, and even though I am no punk rocker, I’m starting to think it looks cool. I guess maybe that’s why that couple was staring at me at lunch today, because they think it looks cool too.

I’m de-ported (is that politically correct?) and ready to rock 🤘🏼

The happiest girl with her urine cup and mohawk, where it all began

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