Last week we meet with Dr. Nora to schedule my port being pulled. Chemo and Herceptin are over and there is no need for it.
Had my last Herceptin a few days prior. The hospital is in the midst of vast construction, and the new infusion center leaves me cold. It's about 1/4 the size of the old one, and there are rooms, just cubicles with curtains. No privacy, it does not feel right to even talk in a normal voice, much less that guffawing, never-ending giggling that we routinely engage in. Even my last infusion is lackluster and muted. They bring me hospital cake and some fruit. Somehow I expected more relief, or to feel free. Instead, I just feel more lost than ever. One of my favorite nurses is not there to say goodbye, and this bothers me all weekend.
But Dr. Nora is as cute as ever, and he says he likes my hair - he actually ruffles it a bit. He asks me about reconstruction, how I feel and how radiation was. I reply later, good and it sucked. It's a short visit and likely that last time I will ever see him, if I am very lucky, unless he says a quick hello before the short port pull in a few days.