Are you a foot person? Love to get a pedi and pick some adorable polish? Umm, then this blog might not be the most appealing (sorry!).
I don't have toenails to paint, and quite frankly can't handle anyone touching my feet due to pain. Oh boy, my feet certainly are NOT cute either. Swollen. Cracked. Flaming red and hot to touch in most areas, purple in others. My little piggies are ulcerated and infected. Poor pups are quite unhappy.
I miss my cuter feet. Shoot, I miss shoes! Ahhhh, I will still dream about them though. Mmm soft leather boots...nice! 😴
Met with my Pain Clinic doc 2 weeks ago as a follow up to my recent trial of IVIG therapy. Long story short: IVIG unfortunately didn't do anything for me. I reeeealllly wanted to 'will' it to work. Honest and truly! But I struck out with both rounds (poop!).
I thought that the doc would just confirm the IVIG stuff, and then I'd get wheeled out of the clinic by my hubbie to head back home.
But things got serious quickly once the doc looked down at my legs. Sobering news: My feet are kind of dying. She actually said that (Ahhhhhhhhhhh!).
She wants to admit me to the hospital after a procedure to place an epidural in my spine, numbing my legs completely. Then the Pain team will flood my legs and feet with vaso-dilators (medications to open my veins) to get blood to my feet, and keep them alive. I will need to have the epidural in place for a week to let those drugs work, since the meds will trigger very painful Ethel flares.
Her argument was that if she could keep my legs numb and force circulation within, then my feet should hopefully recover a bit. Unfortunately for me, the leg/feet CPR (if you will) is only a short term solution. If I don't do this... then yeah, dead little piggy toes for sure (again, Ahhhhhhhh!).
Not going to lie, it can be challenging to get through certain chapters of my personal book of life.
Experimental treatments, consistently plagued by side effects.
Increased pain directly linked to trying new treatments can be particularly harsh, since there's that little voice that whispers that I brought this on myself.
Failure of treatments and therapies for years now.
Coming home from the hospital usually worse than when I went in.
It can be a heavy load!
And don't forget to dog-ear the corners on some pages as a reminder to allow yourself to shed some tears and experience the emotions of that recent roller coaster ride too.
Seems much easier to close that thick heavy book and choose a lighthearted rag mag to read instead at times.
So here I am, waiting for the hospital to call me with my procedure time for tomorrow morning. Then I will need to count backwards 12 hours so I know when to stop drinking water. Lord knows I don't reeeeally need to worry about the food part.
See, while my heart says, "Let's do this baby! Let's see what happens!", my emo's scream, "Nutella and Cookies are the solution to life's problems!!!". Ohhhhhhhh...
I crashed and burned on the food already in the days leading up to my procedure tomorrow, but I'm not going to dwell on it.
Hmm, the emo eating was a 'fluff' chapter that would have been better left out of my book o' life huh? Perhaps like marshmallow fluff? Wait, no! Not that! Hee Hee.
Time to pack for trip to The Joint. LOTS of undies this time in case they extend my stay again. Snicker snicker... : )
Operation Save my Piggies (and feet!) has commenced!
Prayers, good juju, healthy energy. Whatever you can fling my way would be appreciated. Just not junkfood. Don't need anymore of that. Hrrrumph!