Two hours from now I will have my port removed; a pebble-sized device that gave easy entrance to my body and allowed in a year’s worth of medicine. It is the last thing; a small finial atop a tall, seemingly insurmountable year and three months of treatment.
I am hopeful for an uneventful day and am holding the image of a bird losing a feather. It served a purpose and helped me get where I am. The loss is insignificant and hardly felt. I’m here now and releasing what is no longer needed.