Help, I need Somebody

Now that the glory of relief has settled down a little, the restrictions of the Nit are starting to become all too apparent. Its not so much the Nit itself - I feel I've mostly conquered that with my extensive bra research. No, this is the post-op effects of an axillary clearance. My new wonder surgeon recommended I have all my lymph nodes taken out, since a couple were a bit affected initially. The wonderfully good news is the rest were clean under closer inspection. The bad news is my excavated armpit has rendered me about as limp and useless as this cat toy.

Aside from recovering from quite a big operation, letting my skin knit back together (eurgh) and waiting for feeling and function to fully return to my left arm, I also have to be careful to avoid lymphoedema. Forever. My risk is higher since I had full node clearance, so I'm not allowed to lift anything heavier than a small shopping bag. Great for getting out of moving house any time in the future, bad bad bad for cuddling my kittens. It's only my left arm that's restricted but Woody and Columbo are wriggly little buggers. I am taking them to the vet next week to have them weighed (with assistance, yes). I may take a small shopping bag for comparative purposes. I have also noticed a strange phenomenon whereby I can feel cold drinks in my armpit. I thought it was my overactive imagination picturing the liquid seep out of the stitches cartoon style, but then lovely reader Phoebe asked me if I noticed it like she did, so it must be a hilarious side effect. Its quite refreshing in this weather in fact.

So here I am, back to 'normality' in my flat. Which would be great except I have never been more aware of how much I CAN'T do. And its making me humph.

I'm not allowed to type. Imagine! This post is being bashed out haltingly and frustratingly, one fingered, like someones technologically repressed great aunt.

I can't wash my left armpit. This is frankly disgusting, considering it is hot outside, and is further compounded by the fact I can't really get dressed. My options are limited to things that don't go over the head. Now that DadJokes has gone back to work I have found myself in a few contorted situations where I've attempted something adventurous with buttons but without elastic. I have remained calm and somehow restored decency just before calling on a neighbour. Then I'll realise my choice was too hot or uncomfortable, and even though I've got it on, NO amount of physical prowess or mental aptitude will work out how to get it off. So I've sat and sweated/winced till DadJokes got home and rescued me.

I can't really sleep. This is particularly annoying considering I thought I finally could relax. I think it's like when you've finished your a-levels but you've crammed so hard that your head is still turning over equations for a good few weeks afterwards. I may need to consider Ovaltine. or Valium.

Chores are basically impossible - even cutting up my dinner is hard - but I just can't stop myself trying (smack on hand for me), so I'm shuffling around the place, half girl, half gorilla with a limp left arm and a bit of a determined scowl on my face. My brother in law finally utilised that secondary school red cross training and (sort of) made me a sling. The family thought it would stop people grabbing my arm forgetfully, or me doing things. It didn't.

This post will greatly upset DadJokes (he may attempt to give up work), my mum (she may attempt to move in) and Katie, (who can't give up work since she's covering me, and also, I am her boss), so I hereby take a vow of uselessness in their honour.

Even though my wisteria has become so overgrown since my op that I can't actually get out the back door. Even though we have a new desk arriving tomorrow that will require assembly and a spare room for it to go in that looks like a clothes avalanche hit it. Even though I am craving banana bread but don't have the ingredients.

Nope. I'm going to sit here cradling my arm, typing one fingered, and re-evaluating my wardrobe to avoid panic scenarios. Till the weekend? Till next weekend? Well, for now at least...

p.s. If there are any local friends who have even a slight green finger about them, I could really do with a (left) hand in the garden...

the view immediately outside