Friday, 20 March, 2026
It was my turn to get my port removed.
According to Google, a Port (cath-a-port) is an implantable venous access device. It’s a small medical appliance, consisting of a reservoir (port) and a thin tube (catheter), that is placed under the skin—usually in the right side of the chest—to provide easy access to a large vein. From the outside, it’s similar to a pacemaker – a bump under the skin on the chest,
Mine has sat there for about a year now. It wasn’t always cooperative, but considering the problems I had with bloodwork and administering the various medications and the damage chemotherapy can do to our veins, I was grateful to have it.
Chemo and immunotherapy over, I had some blood tests done to prove I was healthy enough, and off I went to get my little friend removed.
I arrived, as asked, at 8:30am for my 9am appointment. I spent that extra half hour sitting and trying not to think ahead. They’d asked me to have someone take me home, which meant sedation would be involved. I’ll be honest and admit that my fearful imagination had me lying with blood spurting everywhere when they removed it. The surgeon had told me, at the insertion procedure, that he’d had “challenges” getting it done. What if they had the same challenges removing it? I have the best imagination *(or is that worst?).
I was called in pretty much right at 9. I got my “clothes above the waist” into a bag, and I waited until about 9:30 for a doctor to show up.
When he arrived, he read my blood test results out loud and explained that he would be removing the port now. I waited for my sedation, but it didn’t happen, nor was it mentioned. I was torn between being relieved they wouldn’t be accessing and possibly botching up my veins, and nervous that I’d be, well, nervous. No time to dwell on it.
The doctor warned me that “this was the painful part,” injecting me around the site – just above my breast on the right. It really didn’t hurt that much. After all the slicing and dicing, prodding and pioking cancer brings, it was just another thing really. The doctor had also told me that he’d be taking the port out and that, since it had been in there a year, it might not want to leave that easily. I did feel a bunch of pushing and pulling that went on for about five minutes. Then the doctor asked, do you want to say bye to your port? I said yes. And he held it up for me to see. Wow. It was smaller than I’d imagined. And plonk it went into a dish. “Now the longest part, the stitches.” I imagined it in my mind as it was going on. Would it be neat stitches or a just-so job like with my lumpectomy? I wouldn’t know until all the dressings and steri-strips were gone, a couple of weeks away. I let the doctor know that I was allergic to adhesives, and he told me that it was just a clear plastic to protect the wound and shouldn’t be a problem.
When he left, I felt a bit dizzy and weird and asked if Krish could come in, but they said, not yet. The nurse put this down to anxiety and brought me some juice. That helped. A few minutes later, they brought Krish in, and he helped me get dressed.
It was well and truly done.
At home, I had a long nap after a bowl of soup. I was tired and a bit sore. Tylenol helped. I was well enough to make dinner later, then was glad for my bed just a bit earlier than usual.
Today is Saturday. I’m aware that the adhesive is a bit of a problem after all. My skin is itchy and inflamed around the edges. This is how it starts, so later we’ll change the bandage to something that’s easier on me,
I’m not really looking forward to my next blood test or IV but I’m not sorry that this chapter is now closed. I’ll put some photos below but give some warning space for anything triggering.
Index of all my Breast Cancer Journey Posts
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