Port of Call

I'd love to say this was a cruise related post.  However, it's a port related post...

Here's my left collar bone area. Port free....

 

 

Dr. Miller will be installing my port on Oct.27th.  This will allow for easier access for the chemo to enter into the Temple of Kim.  They say the body is a temple, so I'm on board. (HA- another boat related comment- WINNING!!!).

 

I had another appointment with my plastics group.  I am looking good, and healing well.  I have been cleared to run, cleared to work on my range of motion, cleared to massage the new tenants in my chest.  I need to ensure no unwanted scar tissue builds up, and that my new girls bounce and flounce al la Dolly Parton.  But, a much smaller version.  I was reminded to be patient for a few more months to allow for proper healing.

 

That is the overall "theme" I keep being told- it takes time. Be gentle.  Be strong.  Be patient.

 

I know this blog has been too positive; looking on the sunny side of things. I get the feeling people wonder if the happy face cracks.  It does and in some of the stupidest places for the dumbest reasons.

 

Last time I had a moment, I was in the emotional vortex known as Sam's Club.  I was simply looking for damn paper plates, as well as, other items I was unaware I even needed.  In the plate aisle, there was a new display of Christmas plates.  Last year, I used all my Christmas stock of paper goods.  So, I am in the market for some.  Do I need 200? Probably not, so I talked myself into leaving them on the shelf.  Then I looked at them again.  I thought, "Come on Kim, let's at least get to Halloween before thinking of Christmas."  I walked a away.  One aisle later, I had my moment.  "Shit, Kim, what if closer to Christmas you feel like shit and forget the plates for Christmas?"  Fuck you cancer. This is where I lost it. At Sam's over paper plates, because of cancer. I should NOT have to think about how I will feel at Christmas because of chemo.  It was a stupid moment, but I was really about to cry over stupid plates. 

 

I feel dumb when I have my moments.  I've ben reassured this should not "kill me."  Six. Six treatments.  Then Six more Herceptin treatments, then 10 years of pills.  I can do this.  SIX. Is just a blip on the screen.  It's pain in the ass, but totally doable. At least that is what I keep telling myself.   

 

But, before I get to start my count down, I need my port.  So, all aboard.