First, a quick announcement. Charlotte Huff has written an excellent article about the relationship between stigma and cancer for the online magazine Slate. I had the pleasure of being interviewed for this piece; if you’ve not already done so, please give it a read: A Sick Stigma.
Back to my roots
Alrighty then. I just wasted I don’t know how much time trying to take a selfie and in the process discovered that lighting is key; dimly lit fluorescent is far kinder than accentuate-every-wrinkle natural light. And although my iPhone is perhaps not quite as truthful, it is infinitely more forgiving than my little leica.
Appearances aside, the point of this exercise was not to demonstate how clean my nails are but rather to show off some new blonde highlights and freshly waxed eyebrows. Yes, it’s true; I’ve rendered myself high maintenance. And Tiffany (from Supercuts), I am sorry, but my heart now belongs to Oksana.
This rash of self improvement all started with the removal of a varicose vein on my right leg. As a cancer patient, I am at greater risk of developing blood clots, and so lovenox, a blood thinner, is given prophylactically two days prior and for a month following the procedure. It is administered by injection and I chose to do this myself (in the stomach!). I got a bit woozy the first go around, but now it is no big deal.
Prep also included the wearing of thigh-high compression stockings (post-op as well) and slathering my right leg in a numbing cream before wrapping it in saran wrap two hours before each procedure. All very sexy (not). The procedure itself took place over three appointments: Endovenous laser therapy (thermal ablation) followed by two sessions of surgical removal (ambulatory phlebectomy). Although it sounds terribly gruesome and possibly painful, it was neither. Easy-peasy actually, and I am so very glad I finally took care of something that made me self-conscious and which was uncomfortable to boot.
Simple but amazing tool
Of course, one additional perk was that I got to stay at the surgeon’s home in-between appointments, which gave me lots of Melinda/Kihan time. As usual, my dear friend Melinda took fantastic care of me. Upon seeing how much I struggled with putting on the compression stockings, she whisked me off to a medical supply store and then purchased the little gizmo on the left. The compression stocking is turned inside out and pulled down over the center section. You then place your foot through the opening, and grasping the handles on the side, pull up towards your thigh. Ingenious!
life and breath: outliving lung cancer 