When one says Port, I say, “Hell yeah!” I can tell you ALL about it. Port is a kind of wine that originated in Portugal. It’s a high alcohol, generally very sweet red wine. American wineries can no longer call their fortified wine “Port” unless it’s been grandfathered in by the Tax and Trade Bureau. I can tell you all about the stemware needed to serve Port properly, and I’ve got lists of foods to enjoy along side it. My fondest memory of Port was when a group of gals and I were at a wine and cheese pairing. Let’s just say a co-worker of mine fell in love with the sweet elixir and then one of the hosts feel in love with her–thanks for the memory M!
Within the last week people started talking to me about another kind of port. One of my doctors told me, “Lori, we’ve scheduled you for a port.”
Hold on just one second. They scheduled a time for me to go to the hospital and drink Port? I thought booze was out of the picture. But YES, I’d take some Port drinking about now. What??? Not the case?
The kind of port they’re talking about is really called a portacath. Tuesday, I underwent a procedure where a small device was placed under my collar bone. Medication (such as chemotherapy) can be administered and blood can be drawn via my port. With it, there is no need for my arm, hand or wrist to be pricked over and over again.
I woke up the next day feeling so good I drug my family to NMSU football pro day. But that, my friends, is another post for another day. Take care until then.