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  • Tara Darby Rasheta

Strike a Port

Updated: Feb 20, 2018

Eighteen months ago I was hired to be an on-camera spokesperson for a diagnostic imaging center, now I'm a patient at the Cancer Center next door.


My call time for the video shoot was 5:00 am. I was hosting an informational video for an imaging center on the campus of Presbyterian Hospital that adjoins the Cancer Center. We needed to shoot before any patients or medical staff arrived for the day.

I remembered looking around and thinking how sad it must be once the sick patients start pouring in at 8:00 am. Now I'm one of them.

Today was my first day of chemotherapy. It seems like all I've been doing up until now is waiting around so I was strangely giddy to finally perch into my recliner and start getting poked and prodded. The nurse put my newly seated port to work as she hooked me up to the machines and started the drip. Strike a port! As I watched the medicine drip from the IV bag and into my veins it was like watching an hourglass. Slow, steady, progress. It felt so much better than waiting. Waiting for insurance approvals. Waiting on imaging results to be read. Waiting for surgery and appointments to be scheduled. Waiting to get well.


Of course there are about a hundred (seriously) side effects that come alongside the medicine that will be killing my cancer. One of those is insomnia. Since I'm writing this at 2:00 am I'm guessing I snagged that one. But It could be worse, and chances are it will get much worse by end of the week. But getting sicker will also feel like progress.


Today I walked right past the doors of the imaging center where I had served as talent and marched proudly into the Cancer Center. I did not look like the sick patient I had expected to see eighteen months ago. But I probably will in the coming weeks and that will be ok too.



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