And the Hits Just Keep Comin’

I have completed the initial four weeks of interferon treatment, which wasn’t too miserable. Not that any treatment is great, but I didn’t have too many side effects. I got the chills, but taking Motrin short-circuits those pretty quick. No nausea. No headaches. Just an occasional queasy feeling. And fatigue. That’s the killer. I never felt completely exhausted, but I always felt run down enough that all I wanted to do was sit down and nap. Every night I’d get in from treatment, sit in the recliner and rest. I feel bad that my wife has to wait on me so much, but I run out of energy pretty quickly.

But that’s not what I’m writing about today. Last Friday, I had my first physical therapy appointment with Sarah. She took a bunch of measurements of both of my legs, which is the first step of treating lymphedema. My right leg (the site of my melanoma) is, indeed, suffering from lymphedema. My appointments with PT for the next two weeks are supposed to show me how to wrap my leg to reduce the swelling. I am supposed to be mummified for twenty-three of twenty-four hours a day. Except she noticed a rash on my right ankle. Which I mentioned to the nurse when I went in for my last infusion. Which led to nurses and doctors gawking at my leg because I had another rash on my incision on my thigh. The doctor said it looks like herpes. No idea how that could have happened. Sure, cold sores and chicken pox and shingles are all types of herpes, but what the He’ll is going on with my body? Now I’m on two different antibiotics for a week, I can’t get my leg wrapped while sporting infections and I still need to learn how to self-inject.

I hate cancer and lymphedema. And infections.

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