Inger My Swedish Massage Therapist

Sunday again and a new week ahead. I have a head cold I am trying to accelerate through the process. In addition I have some severe chafing on my inner upper thighs, further exasperating my attempts to walk and move about. My office now sports a massage table. This is another permanent addition to my remaining life on earth, living with lymphedema. Looking at it that way can be somewhat discouraging. Vanessa now has the role of Inger, my Swedish massage therapist. The sessions can be torturous but I understand they are necessary. We have a daily routine of an hour or two devoted to me and Inger rubbing me to accomplish MLD, or manual lymph drainage. Inger has to truly love me, for my old blubbery carcass is not something to look at on a good day, and with the distortions of the edema it is horrific. She has learned quickly and well. I have noted that any person who does lymphedema therapy has extremely cold hands to start. Inger gets an odd look in her eye and I swear a little smile when she says ‘this is gonna’ be cold’ just prior to laying her delicate hands on me. I am not sure I have mentioned it, but cold hands seem to be a trademark of my MLD therapists. Perhaps the shock of cold digits is considered important in moving the lymph or blasting the fibrosis that results. In any event I have accepted it at all levels. Only Inger at least makes a real effort to pre-warm, even though such exertions are frequently futile.