A Swell(ing) Journey Part VI

11 04 2008

Never has finding out parts of your body are functioning normally been so depressing. The latest labs are back, and, you guessed it, they are normal. Normal thyroid. Normal blood markers that could have otherwise pointed to vasculitis. Normal kidney. Normal liver. Normal heart. Normal lungs, blah, blah, blah.

If nothing else, I’m finding out that I’m very healthy. Oh yeah, except for this freakish swelling that is keeping me from being able to live normally.

Okay, enough with the whining. I’m not sure what’s next. I’m starting to hear my late mom’s voice in my head. “Phooey on the doctors. If it was me, I’d just ignore the swelling and go back to doing what I want to do.” She would have, too. I’m thinking I’m getting nearer and nearer that point. Of course, I’ll need some different-sized shoes, pants, etc. I need to surf the net. Maybe there is a hip store called Swellwear. I’m hoping they have stuff that will make you look cool, even when you have one leg and foot that is 3 times the size of the other and an abdomen that is puffed up like milk-soaked Corn Pops. Maybe if I can’t get back to work soon, I can design this type of clothing for a living. The motto for my website will be: Go to Swell. Paris Hilton might be interested in funding it.

I’m sure my wife is starting to get concerned about my inability to return to work. This is not the type of free-loading I had in mind when I married a soon-to-be a CPA. I pictured a lot of tennis rather than cool-water bath soaks and support hose on my leg. And who wants to stay home all day if you might not be able to afford cable, internet, and salsa-flavored Sun Chips? (It’s not really quite to that point yet…for those of you who might worry.) Maybe this not working thing is not all it’s cracked up to be.

In all seriousness, though, I have been blessed with some extra time with my two-year-old (who just tried to physically remove me from the computer because she would appreciate some “chocolate in the milk” she is holding). It is nice not to have to stress about getting her to daycare and then myself to work on time. I’ve been able to read books to her, wonder in the mystery that is the kids’ tv show called Yo Gabba Gabba, and play hide and seek. My only complaint about this? It’s very difficult to find a hiding place that will conceal my damn foot.

Yo Gabba Gabba. (My abdomen looks similar to the pink character’s.)

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