Port.

No, not wine.

No, not awesome quotes ("A ship in port is safe, but that's not what ships are built for," said Rear Admiral Grace Murray Hopper).

Not a super tiny circular escape hatch window on a Carnival cruise ship.

We're at the hospital (again!), but this time it was planned. Liz is getting a port surgically inserted under the skin just below her left collarbone. This will allow a simple needle prick through the skin to administer chemotherapy, take blood draws, give medicine, etc. Her arms are poked to bits over the last few weeks, so this will actually be good. Just too bad we had to come back here. And too bad I'm hanging out in the surgery waiting area. At least I knew where the most comfortable waiting chair is. All of these neophytes had no idea.

We're getting to know too many of the nurses here. Not cool. But we were happy to see Liz's favorite nurse, the one who previously agreed that she never wanted to see me again either. She came into Liz's VIP suite, gave her a big, sincere hug, then looked at me and said, "I really never wanted to see you again." That's what I'm talkin' about. She recognized Liz, asked how the baby is doing, tolerated my instagram photo sharing session, remembered and acknowledged my wonderful wife. She also appropriately questioned my validity as a "responsible adult" to drive Liz home today. Compassionate care for Liz, jokes for me = best nurse ever in the world of all time ever. But we also ran into a couple of lousy ones:

Thing 1
Worst IV entry. Bad directions and explanations. Neglected to even look at her chart before entering the room. Walked out mid-sentence (but that's OK, since I didn't understand what she was saying anyway).

Thing 2
These amazing quotes all came within the 60 seconds she was in the room. Perhaps I should start a new stupid comments list.
          "Ooh, you're lucky. Looks like you're warm." (Lucky?! Really?)
          "Do you have to use the pot?"
          "What are you here for anyway?"

The surgeon stopped by to talk to both of us -- he looked like he was halfway through the title bout. Apparently he gets super pumped for surgeries. His name is really rad: Joe Montana. Minus the Joe, plus another first name. I can't ever remember it. So I call him Joe. He seemed so tuned in, I expected him to tear off his shirt Macho Man Randy Savage style. Or was that Hulk Hogan? Or David Hasselhoff? Or me during my first and last high school bodybuilding competition? Never mind.

Liz finally went back a few minutes ago, nearly two hours late. Thanks to Jess and Kelsey for taking the boys... Sorry if it's a late night!

Unrelated, though really important topic: I gotta stop letting Jensen play with the Kindle Fire (he calls it "ur pad pad"). It's been a while, so I forgot my rule to turn off the WiFi first. After a few minutes I told him he was done. He said, "OK, Dad. I watch Chuggington when I get up from my nap?" Nope. But that was because I thought we didn't have Chuggington. And also because I usually say no to any questions. Guess I need to work on that. Anyway, Amazon informed me that we did indeed have Chuggington! Jensen bought two full seasons of shows for $51. Plus an episode of Little Einsteins for $2. That kid owes me, big time.

Captain Montana just came by, everything went great! The port works, no issues at all. Liz will be sore for a few days, I hope it'll be OK... I'm off to classes tomorrow and Saturday, but we'll see how long I can keep that up. The classes energize me, as does work. Strange hobbies, but maybe that's the best I can do right now! Coach Montana emphasized that when the oncologist starts chemotherapy, he's in charge, and whenever the time comes to talk about surgery a few months down the road, that's the time when the surgeon takes over. Just like he took over in the Super Bowl.

Liz is now in post-op recovery, I'll go back shortly. Whew. And it's one more thing done, one more check on the long list of "things to do so Liz kicks cancer in the head."

As my wonderful mother likes to remind me, often when silence becomes uncomfortable: this is but a moment in the light of eternity.


2 Corinthians 4:17-18
For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory; While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal.


Go Team Liz.