Scar tissue

I've chosen to write this blog for many reasons, I find it therapeutic and a good way to process everything. I wanted to be very honest and tell my story how it really is, what's difficult and what's not so difficult. When I first found out about my illness I was sickened with myself, feeling that I was gross with that rotten thing inside of me. I didn't want to speak about it with anyone, pretend it didn't exist. I didn't want people to know. I didn't want anyone to think of me as I thought about myself... disgusting. I was embarrassed and felt like a failure. Everyone would find out what a failure I was. Naked and exposed. I told the doctors that I didn't want to hear anything about the tumour, nothing at all.. just to do what had to be done. I gave them permission that they could answer any questions that my family might have... as long as nobody told me what was asked and what was answered.All a part of coping mechanisms I suppose, being in denial until I was ready to face reality. That confrontation had to take it's own time and pace before landing in acceptance. I finally came to the realisaton that this is not me... I'm not the tumour and the tumour doesn't define me.. I definitely didn't choose this. I definitely didn't expect that I would get hit with this. But I did. And that's ok. I can tell my story now without shame. This is also a way for me to own my situation . If the words come from me it doesn't give room for false information and rumours. And even if I'm very transparent about most things, I have a choice of what I want to share. But I think the people that are following my journey, that cares for me, cheers me on and prays for me deserves to know what is happening.  However, I want to make sure that everyone are aware that all posts involves events that has already taken part months before I write about them. The other thing I really like to be clear about is that when I write about my treatments and write about anything medical, it is only based on my interpretations of whatever doctors and other medically educated tells me. I have no medical degree. I am only writing from a patients point of view. But I do know that cancer treatments are very individual, what happened me might be completely different to anyone else's experience. The operation to insert the port-a-cath was very minor, I could even stay awake for the whole procedure. I had to make a few preparations before going in. I had to wash myself a couple of times with bactericidal agents, killing off 90% of all bacteria.The procedure took less than an hour. First they wiped me with more chemicals to kill the last 10% of bacteria on my skin. I laid down under something looking like a tent. I've seen them on Grey's anatomy before.They gave me local unaesthetic and some relaxant. They cut about 2" and put in the port, it wasn't painful but I could feel them moving around under my skin. They were pushing in a tube, that part made me nervous after they told me it was going in near my heart.. what if they accidentally pierced my heart with the tube? ...”Trust the PHD's”  my inner logical voice whispered to me.Even if I felt worried, it was quite a cool experience... being awake during surgery. Check. Before I knew it, they had me stitched up. They put a large plaster over it and told me to avoid certain movements and not to carry anything heavy for 3 weeks. Any pain could be managed with paracetamol. The port is placed about 3" below my right collarbone, the stitches were the kind that dissolves by them selves. I don't notice it any longer and it's far better than the alternative, a piccline, which can't be exposed to water and that is quite visible.The port can also be seen, it's like a bump under my skin. It has also left me with another scar to my collection. I like scars, they're proof that you haven't just been living a static life. You have been on the move and there is a story behind them. The scars on my wrist are a childhood memory from summer days at my granny's. Once I got cut by barb wire when feeding a cow and got frightened and pulled back a little too fast. The scar on my knee is a mark from when I was surfing in Australia, the scar on my arm is a memory from my first dog that bit me. She was only a puppy. I miss Sasha.The two deep scars hidden under my hair is from when the times they opened up my scull to remove a brain tumour. The scar above my bellybutton is from another time when they had to save my life with a shunt, and the new scar on my chest is from giving me another chance to survive cancer. I view my scars as art, they're conversation pieces, telling stories from my life and that I never stood still. I lived and have stories to tell. I love those stories so I love my collection of scars. I've had an eventful life. With the birds I'll share this lonely viewin'With the birds I'll share this lonely viewScar tissue that I wish you saw(Red hot chili peppers - Scar tissue)