My "infusaport" is in. The procedure went well. I was a bit sedated but otherwise conscious and then spent two hours in the recovery room, wide awake and feeling fine. I ate crackers and drank water and then my sister brought me lunch. I got dressed and we walked to an appointment in another part of the hospital. There I met with my oncologist and nurse and learned about every possible chemo side effect, got a tour of the "infusion" room, received prescriptions for all kinds of drugs I may have to take, and gave my offiical consent for chemotherapy. I will soon be contacted about my first treatment which will take place one day next week. Each day after a chemo treatment, I will go back in for an injection of Neulasta, a drug to help keep my white blood cells up.

Now I think I'll rest. The numbness in my chest is wearing off and my neck is a bit stiff and sore. I can feel the little metal port under my skin and that is a bit annoying. The port is completely sewn under my skin, with a tube running into my jugular vein and then into my heart. When I get each chemo treatment, the nurse will locate the port and inject a needle into my skin which goes into the middle of the port. Then the medication goes in. With the port, I'll avoid repeated needle sticks in my hands and arms. Blood can also be drawn from this port since I will be getting lab tests often.The worst part of this procedure is that I cannot pick up Danny for 3 days—due to the strain it might have on the surgery site. I hope I can comply with that.

As always, Joey reminds me that this stuff is no big deal. When I got home after being gone for many hours, he just walked past me and mumbled a "hey" and went on with his business. If that's not a reminder that life goes on despite illness, I don't know what is.