Yesterday was treatment day. Carrie was my nurse. She is most days.
As she prepared the potion to be dripped into my chest we chatted about my catheter port. It’s how I get IV fluids. It’s a small receptacle under-the-skin below my right shoulder. Small tubes connect it to my central artery. A needle still breaks my skin but it’s orders of magnitude less invasive than a normal IV line.
“The Alien,” I said. “I hate it. It freaks me out”
It does! No one wants something the size of a bottle cap embedded in their chest.
On the other hand it’s been used over twenty times. That’s a lot of times my arms or hands were spared.
“I’m glad you’ve got it,” Carrie said. She wondered how my veins would have stood up to this amount of use?
I have a love/hate relationship with this thing in my chest. I’m not getting rid of it any time soon.