Eh.

The port was no big deal. I'm a bit bruised and sore. I woke up a few times during the procedure but it was all very pleasant and druggy. They brought me warm blankets.

The doctor, who was very young and had one of those idiosyncratic goatees, held my eyes for a moment, smiled sweetly, and said, "My mother was diagnosed with breast cancer when she was 41. That was 1980 and she's still alive." Clearly, he didn't know that I had mets. I didn't educate him.

Off for chemo tomorrow