The c Word

November 13, 2010 and not even a year since my diagnosis.  What if the chemo continues to work?  Ah how we love the hypothetical.  What if there is a miracle, miracles do happen every day.  It’s well before dawn and I cannot sleep, not for the recovery, just restlessness.  This is more the norm for me and has been for years.  I rarely use an alarm clock and don’t need it when I do because I am a very early riser and early faller if you will.  Drives Vanessa crazy.  

I am feeling good and continue to heal.  The wound still seeps but less as time passes.  It is covered with a tape that will wear off.  It still slows me up and I cannot wear pants yet so I am in my sweats and feeling pretty good.  What a blessing it is to feel good.  I’m at the stage of sitting too much but not quite healed enough to get active. 

Controlling the lymphedema has been more challenging but Inger and basic exercises and walking as possible seem to be holding it at a level that is workable.  The neuropathy continues to lurk in my feet so I am trying to be careful to stay on the meds for it.  By the afternoon I found I had to take a pain pill to stay comfortable.  A couple of sneezes in the morning pulled something and I am so sick of this not healing up, although it looks like it will in time.  Clearly I will be on limited travel going into the next week. 

We went to the Methodists for a pancake breakfast this morning.  They do it annually as part of the Christmas in Pendleton event.  Standing in line the fellow in front, his red baseball cap, jacket and jeans, I would guess late sixties in age turned and noted me leaning on my stick.  In recovery my left leg has a deep muscle ache and is weak and the suture area is very sore, so I rely on the stick.  Frankly I don’t believe it is any one’s business why I would use a cane and often when asked my response is considered sharp.  For me it’s like swatting nosey flies.  He looked at me and asked ‘is your knee?’, ‘No’ I broke in, ‘I have cancer, the chemo caused me some problems with the left leg.’  With that crushing verbal swat at the nosey fly,  ‘Oh’ came the sheepish reply as he turned his back to us and no doubt contemplated asking a woman how far along she is in her pregnancy first chance he gets. We did not talk further and I lost him in the room after we were served.  I suppose if it was a knee we could have talked style, mechanics, issues, etc.  The c word has a dampening affect on conversation.

I do get a lot of compliments on the cane, cut from a vine by Dad so many years ago and still light and sturdy.  After all, if you have to be a hobbler might as well be a memorable one.