Wednesday, September 11, 2013

Clark and His Port

Continuing from this post and this one...

The doctors had surgically placed an infusaport, or "port," just under the skin in Clark's chest...where he would receive his chemo and other meds. They also drew his lab that way, too.

Not the most fun thing, but I guess it's better than trying to find a vein AND wrestle a screaming 2 year old every.single.time.

It still hurt, don't get me wrong...even with the numbing cream they put on it first. When they were drawing his lab or giving chemo, Clark would say, "dat hurhts my pote." 

Bless his heart. I felt so bad for him. He had this big scar on his abdomen from his surgery...Logan called it Clark's "rainbow" scar, so that's how we referred to it from then on. Or how I did. And every time I looked at Clark's scar, I couldn't help but think of Noah and his rainbow. Clark's rainbow scar was a constant reminder that God was with him...with us. And it brought me back to why we chose "Joseph" for Clark's middle name. In the story of Joseph from the book of Genesis, Joseph had a bunch of bad stuff happen to him in his life, and he said, "man meant it for evil...but God meant it for good." (Genesis 50:20) I just knew that God was going to use this time and Clark's cancer for HIS good.

Clark kept his port for several months after his chemo treatments were over. For the first year after his chemo finished, he had to go for check-ups every the port was really handy. But, we knew it had to come out eventually...we didn't want it to ever get infected. Plus, I remember being at the pool one particular day, and some of the little kids were asking, "what's that?" Clark would always say, "my pote." 

Finally, the doctors told us they would schedule the surgery to remove it. We were blessed to have it, and blessed that Clark had NO PROBLEMS with it whatsoever. It did exactly what it was supposed to do. In the days leading up to the surgery, I tried to prepare Clark as best I could...because we would be going back to the hospital. He was so little and it was hard for him to understand. I said things like, "the doctors are going to take out your port," and "you don't need that port anymore!" 

Clark wasn't having any of it. He would get SO upset. He would put his hand over his port and say, "but I LOVE my pote...I NEED my pote..." and get big, ol' tears in his eyes. Because to him...his port was a part of him. He didn't remember a time when he didn't have it. It would be like me saying to you, "we're gonna take off your arm today, but it will be don't really need it anymore."

No WONDER he was so freaked out!

But, he made it fine during the surgery, and in the days and weeks afterwards. He still swears up and down that he saw the doctors throw his port in the trash...which is impossible, since he would have been under anesthesia at the time. But I'm not gonna argue with him!

"...shall we indeed accept good from God and not accept adversity...?" Job 2:10

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