I'm not making a fashion statement. Nor am I being a bad girl, trying to defy my mother like I used to so long ago. I remember hiding my little white anklets in the milk box so as to look cool with no socks, when I went to meet my friends.
No, the reason I took the laces out of my sneakers was to relieve some of the discomfort. It's very difficult getting these swollen feet into my shoes. Now that they've been wrapped so thoroughly, from toes to knees, I feel like I should see a farrier to nail some metal sliders to the bottom of these packages, and forget human shoes. I could, of course, go buy a very large size slip-on number like the old people in Florida do to widen their base so they don't tip over as easily.
So many options to muse over. And that's just footwear. After the therapist finished securing my bandages, she helped me slip on (ha) a pair of tights with no feet. Remember tights? I haven't worn them in centuries. I have a memory of jumping from bed to bed singing the songs from Peter Pan. "Like a bird in the sky, I'm flyyyying" Or maybe I was superman or Green Hornet.
Now I could say, "larger than a sausage, bigger than a salami,
it's Lymphadema woman". Yes it's Lymphadema woman, who came to this planet having karma debt piled higher than the tallest tree. Lymphadema woman, who with the help of her sidekick, Mild Mannered Miliie, will continue to fight for good replacement teeth, fashion in larger sizes at old school prices, and ways to live with dignity, despite the removal or wearing out of her original parts.
One might think it silly to be thinking of how to dress this body, when certainly there could be so much more to occupy my thoughts. But you know, dressing this plus size woman, when I have to appear in public is so difficult on a regular day, that a special day requires patience and creativity. And now, suited up in Lymph-wear presents challenges unthought of before now. Can't get my jeans on or my shoes and that's truly just the tip of the iceberg. There's so much more to worry about. Like, how can I drive myself to and from the treatments, or to shopping or simple errands. How can I get out of the car and back in?
2 comments:
ohhhhh, hard day. my heart breaks ondge. and i deeply appreciate your writing, and sharing your thoughts and feelings. so real you are. i love you.
Oy vey Andrea. Thank you for sharing your life with such honesty and an edge of humor. Your voice is very special, moving and beautiful. My love to you.
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