This morning my cold was a smidgen better, the kitchen was filled with sunshine and I decided to stop being so mopey and lazy. I took my Tylenol 3s and then washed the dishes, something others have been doing for me for days. I got through them before the pain got too bad; encouraged, I did my exercises. Then my neighbour Daryl and I walked to the drycleaner, the post office and the grocery store (to pick up Kleenex), amid filthy, crusty piles of snow that look so ugly but at the same time so beautiful because they're melting, shrinking, signalling spring. Even the sea of garbage now exposed on the sidewalks and in alleyways is a harbinger of a new season. When the pain got too bad, we stopped at a greasy spoon and ate wonderful, horrible food and warmed up with tea. I made it home by scuttling along the sidewalk while propping up my shoulder blade with my thumb. It's embarrassing to me how much worse pain is when I'm alone. As soon as I said goodbye to Daryl, I scooted in the house, slammed the door and howled like a banshee. But while we were walking, it was sort of tolerable. I don't think Daryl was fooled, but distraction does help.
In any event, it was wonderful to be out and about in the neighbourhood in the sunshine, with temperatures above zero. I feel much more human, despite the pain.
The pain is weird, though. My left arm, armpit and left breast feel alternately numb, pinched and burning. My upper arm feels hard in spots, and I'm sometimes overwhelmed by the sensation you get when feeling returns to a limb that's "fallen asleep." While I had a drain hanging out of my underarm, attached by a little stitch, I assumed that was making me feel mucho uncomfortable, but the removal of the drain yesterday didn't seem to make a difference; in fact, last night my whole underarm area felt much worse than it had since the surgery, like it was made of solid plastic. Then I thought it was the heavy dressing on the drain wound fastened with tons of tape that was making my skin pull and pinch, but the removal of the dressing isn't helping, either. Now I figure that getting the staples out in two days will make a big difference.
But the booklet I should have been looking at two weeks ago but temporarily misplaced, "Exercises After Breast Surgery," says, "You may feel sore, numb or a tingling or burning feeling on the back of your arm or your chest wall if surgery has irritated some of your nerve endings. These feelings may increase a few weeks after surgery" [italics mine]. I guess this is normal. Still, combined with the back pain, it's yucky, and I wonder if favouring my left underarm and lying around too much is creating a vicious circle with the shoulder blade.
Tomorrow morning, I'm going to a massage therapist for "lymphatic drainage massage." The therapist suggested on the phone that the backed-up lymphatic fluid could be connected to my cold. Sounds dubious. But I'm sure some massage could help to get things flowing again.
Pollyanna moments:
- I do not live in southeastern Australia at the moment. But two good friends do, and God knows how they cope with the heat and the impact of the deadly fires happening there. Melbourne is a splendid city, but I could never deal with those summer temperatures.
- a friend sent me photos taken by her partner, photographer Tony Beck, of birds in Ecuador. Now that life has slowed down and straitened, I do find much more pleasure in small things, and I notice details I didn't before, cliché as that sounds. I'm no bird-watcher, but the spectacular colours and tiny, beaky faces were almost exhilarating. Especially inside my beige walls. And I loved the names: Long-tailed Sylph, Shining Sunbeam, Cinnamon Flycatcher, Lesser Kiskadee.
- a goofy YouTube video sent by a friend that induces laughter over a man's weird laugh. (It's a bit drawn out, but the ending is worth it.)
- french fries with gravy.
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