In the cancer world, to port or not to port is the question. Prior to my diagnosis, I didn’t even realize this was a question. Don’t get me wrong; I knew what a port was, I just assumed it was standard. In fact, during my not-so-short hospital stay for my pregnancy, I begged for a port so that I could forgo my twice daily blood draws.
Ports aren’t universally recommended, depending on the type of cancer and your length of treatment. I’m swimming in a cancer world now. My boss and one of my coworkers at my very small company both also have cancer. For my boss, his cancer is more advanced and the treatment options are limited, so they wanted to hold off on the port as long as they could due to the possible increased risk of infection. For my coworker, it was assumed she’d get a port because the drugs are that hard on the veins and her treatment course was very long.
Me, I live in that gray window. The drugs are harsh, but my treatment is considered pretty short by chemo standards. It was up to me.
Sign me up!
My oncologist barely had the chance to utter the question before I said, “Port, please!” I’ve been there, done that when it comes to blood draws. I’ve had daily, I’ve had gallons taken at once (okay, 19 vials), I’ve had bad sticks where they blew through three veins before they found a good one. IVs are difficult on me because I have small veins. One of my juiciest veins is on a nerve, and I’ve gritted my teeth and accepted the pain every other day for five weeks as they stabbed at it to keep my babies in me longer. Having a port would make this unnecessary.
This was the extent of my conversation about getting a port.
Big Mistake
My port surgery came and went without a hitch. It wasn’t until after the procedure that a key little nugget of information came to light. I couldn’t lift any of the kids, because I wasn’t supposed to lift over ten pounds. WHAT??????? We had no help arranged. I’d considered this a minor procedure, and given the number of procedures and surgeries I’ve had over the last five years, it didn’t even register that there would be any issues other than normal recovery afterwards.
A port doesn’t exactly work like that. I don’t fully understand why, but when they put the port in your chest and then loop it into a vein, it makes your body go haywire. It was excruciating if I accidentally lifted my arms to about chest level. I couldn’t have lifted ten pounds if I wanted to. My arms ached randomly (and still do sometimes).
They sent me home with orders to take Tylenol if I felt bad. I went home and ran for my stash of pain pills from my last surgery. They became my lifeline for the next few days. Luckily, my in-laws rallied and helped with the kids.
Later, I learned that my experience was one of the BEST for port placement. My coworker said hers was more painful than a mastectomy and ached for weeks. Most said the excruciating pain lasted a week or two. Why did none of the doctors mention this? Once again, I realized it’s up to me to ask the questions.
Technically, I wasn’t supposed to lift the kids for ten days. Big surprise–I lasted three. Who are they kidding? I actually think this helped me. The movement made my aches go away. I also slept in a bra because I found this helped to minimize the pain at night.
I need to remember what helped the most during infertility: it’s up to me to ask the questions and up to me to advocate for myself and my family.
Cancer Ever After 
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