Lymphedema, anyone?

I started lymphatic treatment yesterday. It's, um, interesting. The hope is that by applying special compression bandages to the swelling in my leg, the fluids will reduce, or even better, leave completely and I'll have a semi-normal sized leg. In the meantime, the bandages make my leg huuuuge - almost as big as it was in March 2006. The other goal is to restart my lymphatic system, make it work more efficiently than it has in the last two years.

When the bandages came off my foot and leg it looked so much better. The reduction in swelling also shows how much damage has been done to it. Without all the swelling it is easy to see the scars, bumps, and missing muscle. Yech. Still call my leg "it" and "her" and probably always will.

I have to ask my lymphatic specialist an interesting question - where does all the fluid go? Is it being expelled? Am I retaining water in different parts of my body (which will be in either my face, butt or stomach, never somewhere lucky like my boobs) and have to deal with that at a later time? Compelling questions, I know. I'm all about the peeing and the pooping. It's what makes life regular.

Off to have the bandages removed. I've been thinking of posting pictures, will have to learn how to do that soon.

Sickbed Diva

I'm done with the self-pity thing. I read back over my last post, cringed a bit and moved on. With Mom home, things are getting back to normal. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear that Dad added a little drama to his sick self. He wasn't looking so listless or sounding so pitiful before Mom got home. The whole time he was sick, Dad never used his blood pressure cuff but the minute he heard the car doors slamming, that sucker was out of the box and on his arm. He whispered faintly from his couch/bed, "Hi Hon, glad you're home. Sorry I can't get up to hug you." Cue violins in background, soft start with slow movement to crescendo..."I was feeling dizzy and had to take my blood pressure." Music swells as Dad lays his head back on the pillow, sighing heavily, eyes closing wearily. "I just don't feel well. My whole body aches, I feel like my joints are disconnected. Sorry the house is dirty." Cymbals crash, music begins to fade. End scene.

Yup. Got my sense of humor back. Amazing what clearing the sinuses can do for mood lifting. You know what's totally unfair? Dad gets sick for a week and loses 8 pounds! If I eat only salads and a handful of protein for a month, I can't lose 8 pounds. Phht.

Okay, off to bed. Still have to baby my cold. Hope you had a great weekend!

Bitter Pill

Well, with Dad sick and Mom away, it has really brought up the issue that I need a caretaker. You don't know how incredibly difficult that is to accept. I'm getting angry with my father because he's not able to take care of me, I'm angry at myself for being so dependent...this completely and absolutely sucks. I can't find the words other than this sucks.

My Dad hasn't left the couch all day except to go to the restroom, get food, or feed the dogs. In between all that, he leaves plates on the counter, juice containers on the table, the toaster out on the counter, the trash can is full, the house is dirty, my commode needs to be emptied, my spare wheelchair needs to go in the trunk of my car, there are cardboard boxes that need breaking down and put in the recycle bin, the recycle trash bin needs dumping...the list seems endless. I tried cleaning the counters, sweeping (ha! that was interesting), tidying up as much as I could.

There's such a bad taste in my mouth. Getting angry with my Dad is ridiculous but when you're almost completely dependent on another person to care for you, you need that person. I know I'm not really angry at him, that it's all coming from my own frustrations, only it doesn't matter because I feel so helpless. I know it's irrational. Duh, I know I sound like a self-centered spoilt brat, but that's the way I feel right now - however misplaced or misguided my anger might be.

I'm trying to do as much as I can but let's be honest here, there's not much I can do - and this whole sick thing just pushes me harder to the realization that my abilities are limited. Pish posh, I know there are other disabled people out there that can do more for themselves - I'm not there yet so I'm venting. Still, there's no denying when you need someone to reach for your shoe which slid underneath your bed and he can't get up from the couch because he doesn't feel well and you can't walk without your shoe, well, you have a problem.

So I'm feeling a little sorry for myself. Big deal. I'll get over it like I always do but until then, waaa waaa waaa. This is a situation I never planned for or thought I would be in. Take that and try swallowing it down. It's not easy and I suspect there are times when it will be even harder.

Sick log

My Dad is now officially named "Typhoid Harry" - he is toxic. I've spent the last three days in a limbo between getting sick and fighting the ick off. This is not a pleasant place to be...you're almost sick...you're almost well....no...wait...you're almost sick...this is one strong bug. It doesn't want to let go. Dad has been sick for a full week as of today and he's feeling a little bit better but is still stationed on the couch. I feel like I need to stick a Brillo pad down my throat to take away the itch. I have to apologize to Missy R., when she was here yesterday with yet another delivery, it was obvious she had caught the ick. She claims it came from the others at her office, nonetheless, Dad's sorry if he contributed.

It's looking like a beautiful morning. The sun is shining, nice change from all the rain we've had this week. Tomorrow is bringing 20 ft. swells - can you even imagine how huge those waves are going to be - and how many idiots are going to be out there taking pictures? My plan is to sit in the car, far enough away from the water and the waves, yet still close enough to feel the salty spray on my face.

Okay, I'm outta here. Cup of chamomile tea sounds lovely. Stay healthy!!

Sick Daze Update

Ugh. Dad was up last night/early this morning with an upset tummy. He came dragging down the stairs at 1:30am looking for food but everything in the fridge and cupboards elicited a "yuck" but he finally settled on one of my diet granola bars. BIG mistake. He couldn't hold it down and was up again at 3:30am formally announcing his upset stomach...loudly. Why can't we vomit quietly? If there's someone that knows someone that can vomit quietly and all delicate-like, please introduce me to that person so that I may learn their secret. Even my dogs make a horrible sound when they're retching. Hmmm...there's no pretty word for it, is there? Upchucking, shooting nuggets, regurgitating (my personal fav)...nope, not pretty at all.

Dad was really fussy today. Usually a sign of getting better but I think he's simply tired of being sick. He's making me tired of him being sick, too... argumentative, know-it-all self-diagnoser, whiner - wait, that's me, dealing with Dad. Now I'm feeling a little run down which is funny. After everything I've been through, a little flu bug or cold virus is not going to get me down. I'm loaded with all kinds of antibiotics, one of those suckers should be able to zap the bug or virus dead.

When I woke up this morning, Dad didn't wait more than 1/2 hour before he was asking what we were going to eat. He'd already run through all the fresh food, was out of bread, no bananas, low on juice...uh huh, yet another reason his earlier "no new food" edict was completely banished. I called Missy R. and she did yet another food run for us. Thanks again!! Dad fell on the food as soon as he opened the front door. Much better than canned soup and frozen veggies.

Mom arrives Saturday night. Too bad the house is going to be messy and nothing has been done all week. Dad and I are hoping to get something done on Saturday afternoon or we'll just open the front door and welcome Mom into the sick house. I'm so happy she's coming home. Happy Friday!!

Sick Days

Oh, the irony. Dad is sick with the flu and I'm taking care of him. Mom is out of the country and my brother is of no help (sad but true) so Dad is stuck with me. We make quite the pair, Dad and I. He's been lying on the couch wrapped up in a blanket, coughing and fighting his fever. I keep trying to help but, well, it's not that easy. I can't fetch and carry, I can't cook, and I can't do much of anything. Fine, I can nag him to take his medicine, which I do very well but that's about it.

Thank goodness Missy R. brought food and Tylenol yesterday. See, when Mom left three weeks ago, Dad made a pronouncement that we would "...eat all the food in the house before buying anything new." Yea, that's a good policy. I figure if something has been in the fridge, in the freezer or on a shelf for over four months, chances are it ain't gonna get eaten. Dad had already tired of all the canned soup so the fresh delivery of food was most welcome, even if Dad will never admit his earlier decree was now null and void. He's already finished a huge container of noodle soup, a seafood dish and some rice. I bought him bread while I was out Saturday and he's been polishing that off, all the while telling me to stop buying him food.

It hurts that I can't take care of my Dad. Even the simple task of bringing him a glass of water and Tylenol is out of reach for me. I'm not able to hold the items in my hands and use my walker or wheelchair. Sometimes when my limitations are so glaringly obvious, it's hard for me to acknowledge. Even worse, if my limitations are stopping me from helping someone I love, it's painful to acknowledge and know that I might be a burden. Not only does my Dad have his own health to deal with, he still has to take of me, too.

Happy Whatever

I know, I know, I haven't written in awhile. It's not that I don't have anything to say, I was too damn lazy to write. So, let's see...

Nothing new on the leg. Same old, same old. I have a colonized infection on my leg - yup, it's finally happened. The bacteria has planted their flag on my leg and made it their own country, kinda like what Kosovo did this past week. I have named it "Fred". Fred is a small country settled in the lower regions of my calf, sometimes erupting in oozing fluid (am I sounding like a travel guide?)that, while not harmful, is quite irritating. Apparently, Fred has decided that he/they are not leaving and have set up shop. I have another colonization on my back but I'm not naming it yet. It's only been there for seven months, it's still too early. Fred is here to stay, tbough. No antibiotics will make he/they leave.

Hope you had a Happy Valentine's Day. It's not high up on my holiday list but I do like baking so I made cupcakes for my physical therapy office. Coconut laden vanilla cupcakes with cream cheese frosting. I decorated using Martha Stewart's sugar crystals which are so shimmery. I dusted the tops of the cupcakes with more coconut and a sprinkling of the sugar - fabulous!! Almost too pretty to eat.

Not much else to say today. Have a lot on my mind and haven't figured out yet the right way to put it to words. Normally I can sit at the computer and my fingers fly over the keyboard but the past few days have been so, oh I don't know, weird. More on that later.

Hope you're having a good long weekend break!

Cupcake upgrade

Apparently, my left leg is not liking my newfound resolve to be more active. It's not as though I'm training for a marathon, I'm simply trying to walk more than 15 steps, be on my feet for longer than 2-3 hours at a time without having to elevate my leg and be more independent. Nooooo, that's not gonna happen.

I went to my primary care doctor to have her complete another set of documents to prove I'm disabled - yes, DIC (disability insurance company now forever known as DIC, that's pronounced DICK) is still around. DIC is everywhere. DIC is still up my ass demanding me to prove how disabled I am, when I can go back to work (HA!), and asking my daily living activities...let's see...I wake up, my parents help me wash my hair and body, my parents prepare my breakfast, help me dress, drive me to whichever doctor's appointment or physical therapy I have scheduled...I wouldn't call those activities but that's what I do. Anyway, Dr. K. looked at my leg and said it, "...looked brawny." What? My leg's been described many ugly things but brawny? I immediately thought of the papertowel roll only I knew that wasn't what she meant -which was that my leg looked swollen and hard. Duh. So off I went to Infectious Diseases (I.D.).

I love my doctors. I feel sorry for my doctors. Here's Dr. H., my I.D. guy and he's telling me that this is simply the nature of my leg. Not much more he can do, no more antibiotics he can prescribe because there aren't any that will help. Plus, I've been on antibiotics for so long my system might become resistant. Yea, that's comforting. So, his diagnosis? That I'm working my leg too much and I need to take a break. Bed rest for a week. F*CK!! Keep my leg elevated and try not to use it too much.

Most people look at their bed as a place to rest, rejuvenate and relax. My bed has become an irritant. I don't want to lie down, I don't want to rest, I don't want to elevate my leg. If I could stomp a foot in frustration I would; a real stomp with my arms crossed, no walker and a really pouty face. I'm trying not to whine but dammit!! Can I catch a freakin' break? Two positive steps forward and then one big bitchy push backwards. I'm doing what I'm told but I don't like it at all. You know that cupcake I mentioned in my last post? I think someone needs to bring me a whole chocolate cake and fast.