Ich Reise

And onward I go.

My next surgery is tentatively scheduled for October 12. I saw my surgeon, the fabulous Dr. Buck, on Monday, and I'm healing as expected. He asked what I thought of things, and I didn't quite know how to respond. It's really hard to say. I have some discomfort still, so I cannot tell if the lipedema pain is there or not. It's strange. And my legs still have a lot of lipedema fat, so they still feel quite heavy. But I think much of the post-surgical swelling is down (although he told me it could take three to six months for it to fully subside), and I've lost several pounds in the three weeks since the surgery.

All in all, I'm going to cautiously say things have gone quite well. My youngest son's book fair at his school was this week, and I volunteered two days. I spent several hours on my feet. Before surgery, I'd have come home with heavy, aching legs that were swollen beyond belief. Yesterday, my feet were a bit puffy but nothing terrible, and there was no noticeable pain. Same thing today. I'd call that a win.

I guess I'm at the point now of being ready to get the rest of these surgeries out of the way. I hate surgery. The last one left me feeling sick and ill, and the pain was far beyond anything I'd expected. The recovery was also harder than I'd expected. But ... if just one surgery can have me feeling better, then I can only imagine how much better I'm going to feel once all of them are done. Maybe, just maybe, I'll feel like me again.

Really, that's the goal of all this. Things don't often end up the way we plan them. But sometimes they end up even better. I think I'm going to hope that this time they end up better.

Healing

It's been a slow process.

In reality, I'm only 11 days out from my first surgery. They (and by "they" I mean the experts) say it takes about three to four weeks to start seeing improvements and three to six months to fully heal after liposuction. Okay. Well, I'm not a patient person. I want to see results RIGHT NOW.

Yeah. It's been a lifelong struggle.

On the bright side, I'm a pretty quick healer. As it turns out, I'm not as quick a healer as I'd like, but given my age and my health status, I think I've done okay. I'm getting around pretty well, I'm only just a little stiff and sore, and the bruises are resolving nicely.

There is still quite a bit of swelling but ...

And I think a drum roll is in order here ...

My calves are an incredible, amazing, mind-blowing ...

FOUR INCHES SMALLER!!!!!!

I know, right?

Now, he didn't really do my calves. What I think has happened is that he's cleared some of the mess clogging the lymphatics in my thighs, which has helped resolve some of the lymphedema in my calves. Which has resulted in my calves doing this incredible shrinking act. My thighs are also down a tiny bit. Still swollen, but not as swollen as they were. My weight is down four pounds. (Okay, so technically he removed eight pounds of fat, BUT remember I'm still pretty swollen.)

My legs FEEL like Jello. They are anything but pretty. They're still pretty lumpy. The left one has a big divot in it (I think either he got a bit too aggressive with the lipo on that one or its just a tissue abnormality from the disease, and either way, I just can't get too worked up about it if it means I get better function in my legs). But I can already tell they are healing.

Healing. And I think they're healing well.

The really funny thing is that immediately after surgery, I was cursing and hating myself. I felt that I'd made the worst decision in the world, that I was spending money I could not afford to do something that made my disease WORSE, not better, and that I was going to regret it the rest of my life, and that there was NO WAY IN HADES that I was ever going to do it again. Now I'm counting down the weeks till the next surgery.

No, I'm not actually looking forward to the next procedure. Not even a little bit. I get horribly nauseated from anesthesia, and the pain is indescribable. What I'm looking forward to is getting past the second stage of the process and into the healing phase. Because after that, I'll be ready for the third phase. And then the fourth.

And then maybe I'll have my life back. It's as simple as that.

Bruises, Bruises Everywhere

I didn't think I was bruised.

I'm wearing this special compression that goes from just under my bra-line to my ankles. It's "flesh colored," or a bit paler than my natural skin tone. I can see through it and easily see the marker lines that my doctor wrote on me before surgery. I can see the bandages. I assumed I'd be able to see the bruises, too.

Ha.

Because the compression is designed to leave on at all times (seriously -- and I won't get graphic here, but you're really not supposed to take it off for the first couple of days for ANY REASON. ANY reason. AT ALL), I didn't realize that I was assuming wrongly.

Holy crawdads, am I ever bruising. I'd undone a bit of the hooks-and-zippers closures on the side so that I could more easily give myself the anti-blood-clot shot, and I got a glimpse of my thigh under the compression. Whoopsie daisy.

Just so you know, I'm normally about as pale as Casper. 

What's not bruised is a scary shade of orange.

I don't know what that's about.

Since I'm only a couple days out from surgery, I suspect this is going to get much worse before it gets better. I'm soooo not going to look anymore, though, because it makes me feel fairly queasy and lightheaded to even think about. Psychosomatic symptoms are weird.