I
meant to blog last week. Really, I
did. But I felt so bogged down by
American politics that I didn’t. I spent
lots of time reading news articles, trolling Facebook, and using fact-checking
websites. The mudslinging on social
media and in the press depressed me.
Silently disagreeing with my family and many friends--and, evidently,
most of Oklahoma--about the presidential race depressed me more. I stood with Christian leaders such as Max
Lucado concerning their opposition to Donald.
I voted for Hillary.
But
America has made her decision now, and it is time to move on. Today I am especially grateful that my
lumpectomy is this month instead of in January.
If president-elect Trump does what he has promised concerning the
Affordable Care Act, I won’t be able to afford insurance for 2017. It seems ironic that a presidential election
could well be the deciding factor concerning whether I receive radiation
treatments in the new year or not.
But
let’s stop thinking about presidents and policies. I’d like to go back to my little world of
triple negative breast cancer, wildly successful chemotherapy, and next week’s
surgery. Last week the peripheral
neuropathy began to lift a little. It’s
not 24/7 anymore. I get breaks from it
for minutes or hours at a time now. That
is a very big blessing.
On
Monday, I followed doctor’s orders to stop taking Celebrex, which is an
anti-inflammatory medication that keeps much of my arthritis and fibromyalgia pain
at bay. Let’s just say that my joints
and my muscles are complaining loudly every minute of the day.
On
Monday, I also had my pre-op appointment followed by a lymphedema specialist
appointment, both at Hillcrest where my outpatient surgery will be. I came away with a plastic hospital bag
filled with copies of completed forms, pamphlets, pages of information, and
pre-surgery cleaning wipes.
Not
having had much experience with surgery, I had no idea how extensive a pre-op
would be: filling out forms, answering
questions about my medical history, listening to the nurse’s pre-surgery instructions,
having an appointment made for December with a sleep specialist because I am
high risk for sleep apnea, and having an EKG and a chest X-ray.
Then
Alice (my neighbor who provided transportation) and I had just enough time to
eat lunch in the hospital cafeteria. (It was far better than the food I ate as
a patient back in September.) From
there, we went over to the third floor of the Women’s Center where I met with
the lymphedema specialist. That’s where
my education really began.
I
learned that the rest of my life will be spent in prevention of and/or dealing
with lymphedema. My right arm has been
the favored one for many years due to ulnar neuropathy, tendinitis, and the
lingering results of a shoulder dislocation.
I get to favor my arm even more now, protecting it from cuts, scratches,
bug bites, and heavy lifting. No more
heavy purses dangling from my right shoulder.
No more blood pressure cuffs or blood draws from my right arm. Careful surveillance of the right upper
quadrant of my body for any swelling, and immediate reporting of such to my breast
surgeon. I learned that stage one
lymphedema is when swelling is short-lived, and that is where you want to stop
it with appropriate treatments. You see,
lymphedema is progressive, and once you go past stage one there is no return. At stage two (continual swelling), you must
wear a compression sleeve pretty much all the time. Thus, it is important to prevent lymphedema
from ever progressing. The best thing,
of course, is to try your hardest to prevent the lymphedema from ever beginning.
So
please forgive me if I am a little overwhelmed right now. I’m trying to do a few things around the
house to prepare for recovery from surgery, and at the rate I can work, they
will not all get done. I’m in constant
pain now with the prospect of post-op pain to follow. At least the post-op pain will be in different
places: the incisions in my breast and armpit.
And I’m wondering how much medical stuff I can cram into December while
I still have 100% coverage.
Last
night’s Bible Study Fellowship lesson was from John 6. The feeding of the five thousand reminded me
of Jesus’ compassion and generosity. I
could relate to the raging storm on the Sea of Galilee, the disciples in the
boat struggling with the waves, and their terror when they saw Jesus walking
toward them on the water. I’ve been in
the storm of cancer for almost six months now, for the most part sustained by “the
peace that passes understanding,” but sometimes stricken with terror. “Don’t be afraid,” said Jesus to his
disciples. “Don’t be afraid,” he says to
me. I don’t want to be afraid. I want to trust him completely all the time,
no matter what.
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