Another Saturday, Another Post

If you read my last post you know that I am still working part-time and from home. And you know that I was seriously bummed. Well, it's been a week, and I am so not bummed anymore! Two days after my last appointment my leg started undergoing excruciatingly painful changes. The day after I wrote my last post I had to call and ask for an increase in the pain meds dosage. It was like my knee suddenly burst into flame. Poorly stated but truly appropriate. The radiated part puffed up, turned fiery red, and started blistering; scar line included. Per doctor's instructions, flex and stretch, flex and stretch. But it changed into flex, moan, hold, stretch, moan, hold; flex, moan, wince, gasp, stretch, moan, wince, gasp. And all the while the irradiated skin bends, cracks open, oozes, bleeds (in places), and folds upon itself. Yup really, really disgusting. Try looking at it every day. I carry gauze pads around so I can wipe up the mess periodically. And I wonder if there will be scarring from the radiation burns, let alone the surgery.

Nothing touches the leg except for my Silvadene cream (which needs to be refilled), gauze pads, and the cotton of my bed sheets - and those only when I'm in a deep sleep. The weather here in balmy Florida is now cooling off and it's a pleasant 45 degrees Fahrenheit at night with a wonderful 67 degrees during the day. And what am I wearing? Shorts. Was it MC Hammer who sang 'Can't Touch This?' Well, that's why I'm wearing shorts. Can't touch the knee. Even the whisper of the cat's tail sends me into spasms of pain.

As a result, I am once again very much house-bound. I am very self-conscious of the visible healing process on the leg, and I do not enjoy subjecting myself to the stares and once-agains that follow me when I'm out in public. If I have to go out either someone goes with me so they can go in, or I use a drive-thru. And if I have to go in myself, it's in-n-out. Even my family stares. I know they mean well, but it's disconcerting when I'm sitting on the couch and DH comes by and scrutinizes the knee. "What are you looking at," I ask. And he responds with "Nothing. Nothing." Then when I comment that the knee looks pretty gnarly, he replies with a "No, it doesn't look that bad." Yeah, right.

Not that all is so bad. There is some news. Now that my leg officially glows in the dark, I know it is well on its way to healing. That and parts of it itches like crazy. Another sign of healing. And I had a frank conversation with the PA at the Oncologist's office explaining that FMLA will only cover me through mid-December. So, I have an appointment on December 8. And if the skin has healed enough, then I may, may, get to go back in the workplace. I would be thrilled if I could go in even a few hours a week. Because then I could acclimate myself back to working full-time in the workplace. So, I am taking every precaution to keeping the leg flexible, covered in Silvadene, and leaving it alone.

The last bit is important. I have a tendency to pick at scabs, blisters and the like. So, leaving this glaring wound alone is an extreme test of my self-control. And so far I like to think I'm doing pretty well. I shower only 2-3 times a week. It is with a mixture of longing and dread that I shower. I so want to get clean, wash my hair, etc. But at the same time I dread the water pressing on my leg and then getting out of the shower and trying hard to dab the leg and not swipe the scabs off the leg. It's a constant battle. Sometimes self-control wins and sometimes it loses.

But at the end of the day, the leg is healing. And that is what matters. No more pics of the leg. I prefer to keep them to myself. Instead, a pic of my son and his two Alex Angels getting ready to go to the Homecoming Dance. Beautiful girls, handsome young man, proud mama, embarrassed son!