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Things below the surface

We had the first contractor out to the house today to handle a small issue. And, while it's small, it was the first thing that needed to be handled before we could bring in anyone else.

Aside from the banging, and dust that is everywhere, there is no sign that anything has been done...which stinks. If you're going to have to put money into a house, it's always fun to have some sort of physical transformation. Having said that, without fixing this issue, any of the subsequent work that we would do could have been ruined.

Which brings me to my own internal work that is being done. After 8 years, I will be having my oncology port removed tomorrow. I'm pretty freaked out but trying to stay my nerves. While I don't love surgery, it's not that part that has me anxious, it's what my port represents to me.

Having my port has been a form of security for me. It forced me into my oncologist's office once a month for a flush and to see the doctor for check-ins each quarter. And, most importantly, it meant that I was always on-guard and vigilant--I couldn't not be with this subcutaneous bump that I saw whenever looking in the mirror. The last time that I let my guard down and allowed myself to be lulled into quiet survivorhood, my breast cancer came back. Having my port has been my imaginary shield against recurrence and a way to remain in ever-vigilant, warrior mode.

The port is also, however, a way to stay tied to the past, living in fear of a future that may or may not happen. I didn't force the issue with my doctor, I just suggested that it may be time. Given that she has tried to schedule this for 2 years, my doc agreed and scheduled the removal for tomorrow, lest I change my mind.

So, if I may be so bold, please say a prayer/think good thoughts/send positive energy out into the Universe for me tomorrow morning.

It's unlikely that I'll be posting tomorrow, so have a great weekend and I'll catch y'all next week.


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