Port Out Starboard Home

I suspect not many people will get that reference.

Anyway, here it is, in a jar of formaldehyde (the port, that is.) Dr Lim gave it to me to keep for posterity.

The procedure was quite nerve wracking. Although the area was heavily anesthetized and my head was averted the whole time, there's a certain amount of discomfort associated with having someone dig around your chest wall to cut open the sutures that keep a port in place.

Glad that's done. And now I have something really good for Show & Tell tomorrow at work :)

Nothing Compares 2 U

If I was smaller and darker in complexion then I might pass for Sinead O'Connor during her shaved-head period right now. I suppose what I mean is, I currently have Sinead's hair.

I might show it off at a party my friend Paul is throwing for me in Seattle this weekend.

Peeling

There's a section under my left arm pit that's mahogany brown - tanned like its from the '70s. I tan easily (for a fair person) but this is ridiculous. As of this week the top layer of skin is now peeling away to reveal the pale stuff underneath. Weird. Especially since its only in one spot.

Separately I'm trying to get my digestive system back in order. Although I suppose everyone is, subsequent to the holiday consumption madness (exacerbated by the snow.)

I suspect its going to take some time to straighten out this system, however.

Tips, anyone?

Radiation Over

I just graduated (that was 32 treatments in total.) They even gave me a certificate. I think I'll file it with my Grade 6 piano and swimming survival certificates (which are two separate activities although playing the piano while treading water for an hour would definitely be certificate worthy.)

Next medical activity is getting this bloody port removed. Thereafter I'll be having four check ups annually - two with Dr Urba and two with Dr Bader.

But I'll think about that next week after this weekend's super mountain fun. Yes, we're going up to Mt. Hood for a couple days R&R with friends. Hurrah!

Cancer Snobbery

I sense a tendency for cancer patients to size up other cancer patients by the extent of their disease. Or maybe its just me, a-hole that I am. I silently mock the tribulations of those stage-nothing, hormone receptives, who need only a quick shot and some radiation before they're "cured." That's barely cancer at all. I am, in turn, completely humbled by the stage four metastatics who are in it for the long haul. They are the mac daddies of my world, the kings and queens of endurance, the Guiness Book record holders.....for them, I have utmost respect.

Christmas Week

I made it into the hospital every day this week in spite of Arctic Blast 2008 (TM). Didn't see any of my usual waiting room cohorts. But all the staff were there, so I was served by up to four nurses at a time every visit. Remember my Formula One pit stop analogy from the lumpectomy? It was kinda like that.

I got a break on Christmas Day. Nice to lie in for a while before heading up to the home of Rhett's Aunt where we experienced the heaviest snowfall I've ever been in. V. romantic, actually. Especially when it was followed by a burst of sunshine making the scene truly Alpine and Christmas-y.

Yesterday I only left the house to go to radiation. Then I sat through three movies consecutively: Howard's End, Kinky Boots and Calendar Girls. Yes, I was watching BBC America.

My hair is growing back - and much to my disappointment its coming in the same old color. I was hoping for red. And, I do, in fact, have a bit of burn going on under my left armpit but I've only four treatments to go. Hurrah!

OK, No Breast Mask

I got that wrong. They don't put anything on me. But the attachment for the radiation machine that they use to administer the electron beam looks like something straight out of an Austin Powers movie. I had to ask whether Dr. Evil will be in attendance for the rest of treatment.