My port was removed earlier this month. This would mark my 4th surgery in 2 years (lumpectomy, tissue removal, port in, port out). It also signals the next step in my journey. We had a trip planned that was timed perfectly with my port removal.

I am currently on vacation with my husband’s side of the family in Utah. They all grew up skiing on Spring Break. I grew up going to the beach. There’s a big difference between the two vacations. One requires muscles I didn’t know existed. The other requires sunblock.

I was determined to take a ski lesson. I thought I’ve done chemo, I can ski. I talked to my friend Karen before the trip. She’s the kind of friend that we pick up where we left off, even if it’s been months since we’ve talked. She and I were instant friends when we met – though we’ve led different lives – she’s more exciting and edgier. She’s a survivor, too. I’m glad our paths crossed.

She gave me sound advice as she’s been skiing before. She told me to just scream while going downhill. We both died laughing with tears in my eyes from the belly laugh.

My first lesson went surprisingly well. I’m sure my anxiety medicine helped. I did make the ski lift, and I went down a hill. I only fell a few times-once off the lift at the end square on my bottom. I couldn’t physically pull myself up from a few of the falls. Thank God for my Saint of an instructor, Mike, and that it was a private lesson. He grabbed my dead weight up.

Although I wanted to scream as Karen suggested when I felt I was losing control, the Southern in me remained polite, holding in a proverbial shiiiittt that was on the tip of my tongue- I just pushed it back into my gut. As Mike called out, “Just push your left leg out further,” and the burning started shooting up in every part of my body, I began to second guess my decisions. I felt a lot like Lucille Ball taking ballet lessons, shoving chocolate in her mouth, or squishing grapes – a kind of beautiful awkwardness.

Stubbornness and pride got me through the entire lesson. My body hated me, and my smart watch was in shock, not recognizing its owner. It was exhilarating and exhausting.

I took today off. I am not sure if I’ll brave another day tomorrow. Pride may tell me differently. I may try again. I’m just thankful for the chance to feel the snow on my face and see the beauty around me.

My husband’s family is amazing. They accept that their son married a Lucille Ball.

I’m thankful the port is gone, and the adventure called life continues.