Before I became a Mama, I was a young 20-something fresh out of college with a degree in hand and the owner of a brand new student loan. Being bi-lingual, I was approached by several companies while in college, and was even courted by AT&T to move to Peru for a position. I just couldn't leave my family yet, so I stayed here, and after a few months of jobs that paid the bills, I started my REAL job at Maersk Line in New Jersey. I spent my days talking about things like tariffs, commodities, and PORTS. I did that for a little over 7 years, during which time I met my sweet man at work, got married, and moved from New Jersey to Charleston.
Carl still works at Maersk, so we throw the term "Port" around a lot. We even lived in a "Port Town" before we moved inland. The word "Port" has taken on a whole new meaning in the past few days. After much prayer, and a very scary dream that included 6 different nurses with needles trying to find a viable vein on my arms, I spoke with my patient advocate today and it was decided that having a Port implanted before we start the infusions would be the most humane thing to do.
I am so thankful that the doctor was on board with this, but she did see my arms last week when they still looked like pincushions. So next Tuesday morning (June 12th) bright and early at 7am Carl will be taking me to CMC Main to have my Medical Port implanted in my chest. It is a minor surgery, but I will be out of commission for at least 2 days as I heal, and I will actually be going back on Wednesday for my first infusion, Lord willing. It will take about 10 days for the site to completely heal, and I will need to take care of that area for a long time.
But again, I have a peace about this. I have had a few friends tell me of their experiences, or their family member's experiences, and I know that this is the way I want to go. Now I just want Tuesday to come so that I can stop thinking about it!