To Port or Not to Port: Why I Regret Refusing a Chemo Port.

When I was first diagnosed with breast cancer, one of the many decisions suddenly thrown at me was whether or not I wanted a chemo port.

And honestly? I hated the idea.

I was already trying to process a cancer diagnosis, chemotherapy, losing my hair, surgeries.. like all of it. The thought of having a device implanted into my chest felt like too much. Too invasive. Too permanent. Too real. So I said no.

Instead I’d just do chemo through my arm veins. How bad could it really be? Looking back now, I genuinely wish I had gotten the port from the beginning...

What even is a chemo port?

A chemo port is a small medical device placed underneath the skin, usually in the upper chest area. It connects to a large vein close to the heart and allows doctors and nurses to safely deliver chemotherapy, IV medications, iron infusions, fluids, blood draws, and more.

For many chemotherapy regimen (especially longer or harsher ones) ports are strongly recommended because some chemo drugs can seriously damage smaller veins over time.

One thing I didn’t fully understand at the beginning is that ports are incredibly common in cancer treatment. For the medical team, this is a very routine procedure and they deal with them every single day.

Left: How a port is accessed for chemo. Middle and right: Different Healing phases of the port.

Why I refused the port at first

When you first hear the words “you have cancer,” suddenly people are asking you to make all these huge medical decisions while your entire world is collapsing underneath you.

A port.

Fertility preservation.

Chemically induced menopause.

Ovarian suppression.

Surgeries. Treatment plans.

And somehow you’re expected to think clearly through all of it. Like how?? I couldn’t. I wasn’t thinking rationally. I was SO scared. I didn’t want surgery. I didn’t want a scar. I didn’t want a visible reminder of cancer sitting in my chest. And I definitely didn’t want to feel even more like a patient than I already did.

But: the nurses never pressured me, they know how you feel and how overwhelming this all is. They kept gently recommending it, especially because my treatment plan was long and included stronger chemotherapy later on, but they respected my decision.

I’m actually incredibly grateful for that now. But if I’m honest, I also know I wasn’t really capable of making a fully informed emotional decision at that point.

What happened instead

At first, doing chemo through my arm veins seemed manageable. Then slowly, it wasn’t anymore..

My veins started getting harder and harder to access. Every appointment became stressful. By the halfway point of treatment, getting a cannula inserted had become one of the parts I feared the most. I’m also a person with smaller veins, which definitely didn’t help. At some appointments, nurses struggled several times before finding a usable vein. I left covered in bruises and tape marks. It was so traumatising.

And then came AC chemotherapy. One of the drugs I received, Doxorubicin, is known for being particularly harsh on veins if it leaks outside of them. At that point, getting the port stopped feeling optional but I had to get it know and actually I was at a point where I really wanted it!

Getting the port was nowhere near as bad as I expected

The port placement itself is usually done as a short procedure (probably not even an hour), while I was sedated. I went home the same day. The area was sore and tight for a few days afterwards, and sleeping on that side felt uncomfortable initially, but overall the recovery was much easier than I expected.

At the beginning, you do have to be a bit careful while it heals. I avoided heavy upper body movements for a short period, kept the area clean and dry, and made sure to protect the scar from the sun with sunscreen once it had closed properly. Within about two weeks, it had healed surprisingly well and it honestly became something I barely thought about anymore.

Now, nurses can access my port within seconds. No digging around for veins. No multiple failed attempts. No anxiety before every infusion appointment.

It also made treatment days feel physically easier overall. Everything was faster, smoother, and less painful.

And weirdly enough, the thing that once felt terrifying eventually started feeling safe.

Life with a port now

Even though I’ve finished active treatment 3 months ago, I’ve actually decided to keep my port for now. It sounds so paradox now, but I actually love it. It's part ofme now. :)

My veins are still not fully recovered from treatment (and from what nurses say, they never fully will), and I still use the port for things like iron infusions. I also really wanted to use it for my upcoming ovary surgeries this year. I developed such a cannula trauma now and I want the port to make anesthesia and IV access significantly easier.

At this point, it does not affects my daily life at all. I can work out, sleep normally, move freely, wear normal clothes, travel, be in the sun, swim in the ocean....and honestly most of the time I forget it’s even there.

It just gets flushed every few months to keep it functioning. That’s it.

This is how the ports looks today in workout clothes! :)

What I wish someone had told me

At the time, refusing the port felt like holding on to a tiny bit of control over my body. Looking back now, I realise it mostly just made treatment harder than it needed to be. Of course, this isn’t medical advice and every treatment plan is different. Some people genuinely do fine without a port. But for me personally, this is one decision I deeply regret delaying.

So if you’re reading this while newly diagnosed and completely overwhelmed, I get it. I hope maybe this helps you ask different questions than I did. Or helps you feel a little less scared of something that initially sounds terrifying.

And maybe most importantly: I hope it reminds you that it’s okay to lean on the people who do this every single day. Even when your brain is too overwhelmed to know what the right decision is.

Also… the chemically induced menopause and Zoladex part of this story? That’s probably deserving of its own post. Because wow. Nobody prepared me for that one either.