Two years ago today I thought I was on the quick track to feeling better. It had been a long hard road to get to the point where I could even get a port, and I thought nothing could be as hard as what I had already been through.
Boy, was I wrong.
I had no idea what was coming next. I had no way of knowing that my first port would not be my last port. I had no way of knowing that I was going to have to deal with blood clots, kinked lines, and a port that took it upon itself to move around my chest, making it nearly impossible to find it with a needle (or five) some days. I had no idea how sick the medicines were going to make me. I had no idea how many months I would have to have those medicines pumped into my body. I had no idea how hard it was going to be.
But, at the same time, I had no idea how strong it would make me. I never thought I would be okay with having a needle stuck in my chest every week, but it became my normal very quickly. I never thought I could watch a clot come out through my line and not freak out, but I did it...twice. I never thought I would be comfortable enough with my port scars to walk around with them showing, but I am. I never knew that a little plastic triangle placed in my chest, with a tube going into my heart would change me. But it has. I'm stronger, not only medically but as a person in general, than I ever thought I could be.
Two years ago I was a different person.
Today, I am two years stronger.
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