‘Cheers to Pete’: An Ode To A Cancer Port

Meet Pete, he’s my port.

Makes my lab draws very short.

Use the cream,

it works like a dream.

No pain.

Thank you, lidocaine.

My ever-ready vein,

keeps those nurses and lab techs sane.

Easy-Peasy.

Never queasy.

Should have done this years ago,

instead of having my veins blow.

So, this is Pete.

I think that he is pretty neat.

He works like a charm,

since I only have one good arm.

A power port,

it’s my last resort.

Oh, the metastatic breast cancer life.

Once again, I’m under the knife.

Hoping to make things simple,

although Pete, he looks like a giant pimple,

implanted under my skin

because I’m thin.

But he’ll get the job done.

Multiple poking now becomes one.

Digging no more.

Labs are no longer a chore.

Cheers to Pete,

for keeping things short and sweet.

Such a relief

to save so much grief.

No heads shaking,

no arm aching.

Now I’m less stressed,

thank you, Pete, you’re the best.

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