Yesterday Hubby and I took a road trip to Dallas for my appointment with Dr C. It's been two long months since I had the nuclear medicine scan for my lymphedema, and I'm happy to say that I now have a plan for surgery. That's the good news.
My surgery is January 14th. That's the bad news.
Dr C is obviously in very high demand, which is good news. The fact that all of his surgeries are a two or three month wait is bad news. The surgery I will have is a six to eight hour surgery, and the first available day for that is next year. Blech. That's a long wait for an expensive surgery that may or may not help. Some people see a lot of improvement. Some people see zero improvement. Dr C says the average is about 30%.
Reducing my swelling by a third is not a cure, but at this point I'll take it. I've been dealing with lymphedema since last May, and while it's mostly just an uncomfortable and unsightly annoyance, I.AM.OVER.IT. I told Hubby today that I can't wait for cold weather so I can wear long sleeves. I'm sick of looking at my arm.
Speaking of looking at my arm..... one of the very fun aspects of visiting the plastic surgery clinic is that they often want photos to document your case. Even though my arm and hand are the only things affected by lymphedema, they couldn't just take photos of my arm. Oh no. Once again I had to pose topless so a stranger could take pictures of me. Aren't you jealous?
On another note, today marks five years since my first chemo treatment...the day I officially started kicking cancer's ass. It seems like a lifetime ago that I walked in to the oncology center armed with hard candy, cold caps in a cooler full of dry ice and a grape slush. I will never forget the sight of the red devil (see the above photo), I will never forget the gross taste when they flushed my port, I will never forget pacing the infusion room pulling my iv pole around because the benadryl gave me really bad restless legs. I hated every minute of the sixteen weeks of chemo, but I'm supremely proud of myself for conquering that beast.
Tonight was "Meet the Bulldogs" - the annual tradition of getting the Wylie community hyped up for the upcoming fall season (mostly football, but they also acknowledge the tennis, cross country, volleyball and golf teams). It was the first time K got to walk down the track as an athlete (for junior high tennis) and it was the first time this year (of many, I hope) we got to hear the Pure Gold band perform "It Is Well".
Monday was the first day of school, and K came home and said "I better pick my feet up".
Turns out beginner tennis is the same period as symphonic band (which she happily reported she made). That means they put her in competitive tennis. As in, NOT beginner tennis. Ha ha.
Never a dull moment.
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