Getting my chemo port removed was the next step in my healing journey.
Right now, it is 1:51 p.m. on a Wednesday afternoon, and wow—am I nervous. Throughout this entire journey, I have been nervous in one way or another, but today might take the cake. In exactly two hours, my chemo port is being removed.
Shockingly, it will be removed at my surgeon’s office. And if you’re surprised reading that, imagine how surprised I was hearing it. We had been talking about removing my port for a couple of months, and at my last checkup, I casually asked my surgeon how long the surgery would take. Very politely—but also very matter-of-factly—he said, “Oh no, we just do that here.”
Here. As in…his office. Internally, I was thinking WTF, but I’m sure what came out sounded much more polite—just layered with shock and a hint of horror.
No more chemo port flushes
A few weeks ago, my oncologist gave the green light, the appointment was booked, and suddenly, today arrived. Leading up to this moment has been a strange mix of excitement, anxious energy, and fear. The fear comes from the unknown. This port has been part of my body for more than two years. While I hope and pray I never need it again, there’s that quiet voice asking, Is this bad juju?
I’m sure many people experience some version of this, but if cancer has taught me anything, it’s that control is mostly an illusion. Life is going to do what it’s going to do.
In a few minutes, I’ll take a Valium—because yes, I absolutely wanted something, even though my surgeon told me he didn’t think I needed it. Ha! I told my doctor that if full sedation were an option, I would have gladly taken that option.
For the procedure, my surgeon will numb the area, go in through my old scar, dislodge the port, and remove it. Once the port is out, he’ll stitch up the vein and then stitch me up. They say it’s a quick 30- to 45-minute procedure.
I’m not a jealous person by nature, but right now I am definitely jealous of anyone who had their port removed under sedation. Perspective is funny like that.
Alright. Time to take the Valium and get this done.
Fast forward to the next day.
I took the evening off and truly savored the moment. And honestly? The port removal was the easiest thing I have done this entire time. I didn’t need the Valium at all. To be fair, it was the lowest dose, and I didn’t feel like it did anything—but still.
Having my chemo port removed was a quick procedure
I was in and out in 30 minutes and felt absolutely nothing. Before I knew it, they were bandaging me up and helping me sit up. Several people had warned me that the lidocaine would be the worst part, that it would burn. I didn’t even feel that. Maybe a little warmth—but that was it.
So many people told me this would be easy. I believed them, but I also assumed that because my port was placed so deeply, my experience would be different. It wasn’t. It truly was the easiest part of the entire process.
So if you find yourself facing a post-treatment port removal and feeling scared, take a breath. Fear not. This part—at least for me—was simple, quick, and incredibly freeing.
