AAhhhhhhhh. . . .

My first day sans sickness & having my mediport de-accessed I was able to get up, go to my closet, and put on a t-shirt.

It was that simple.

I didn’t have to stare blankley at all my clothes, searching for “port friendly” shirts, weighing the option whether I should show it off or hide it.

I was initially hiding the port, but unfortunately, X would forget it was there.

The right side, my port side, is his snuggle side.

You don’t realize how often something lays across your chest until it can’t.

Seatbelts, for example, are a big pain in the ass.

I did hear a rumor that a seatbelt cushion exists for just this problem.

I’ll have to find it to show it to everybody.

Maybe somebody else knows?

I can also focus on some much needed organization.

Someday, sometime, somewhere somebody is going to make a mint organizing homes in preparation for disability, such as chemo, radiation, surgery.

When illness hits, the smallest tasks become monumental.

Life is not simply a fight because you feel terrible, it’s a fight because everything is now an obstacle that needs to be relearned in accordance with your new personal limitations.

For example: taking a shower, which for me is often a way to destress and relax becomes difficult. I can't just hope in the shower and go. I have to sit, tape up my port, then get in.

Showers also come after I take my medications, which take at least 15 minutes to go through.

To make matters worse, the chemo severely interferes with my ability to organize.

In general, I think “chemo brain” has severely attacked my organizational behavior.

What’s fabulous is I have a break, and I can now sketch out the ideal organizational tools for my project idea.

I NEED my ability to organize, because Who would know what a patient needs better than a patient?

I have to say, I’m excited and loving it. It’s a feeling I haven’t felt in a while.