Firstly an update on my appointment with the Orthopaedic Surgeon regarding The Bastard Knee – the Knee will be remaining Bastardly for the foreseeable future. Yes indeed, as a change from the ‘you’re too fat’ line I got the new, improved ‘you’re the WRONG SORT OF FAT’ which, despite its exciting newness, all boils down to the same thing; computer says no.
My 30-odd years of rampant Lymphoedema have left my legs so deformed, fibrotic & huge (despite years of treatment, bandaging & sexy compression garments) that a surgeon is simply incapable of manipulating the joint into a suitable position to fit something shiny & new. Allegedly. If you know different, please shout up! So, with the promise of some steroids being injected into the joint which might/might not work at all & an ongoing supply of opiates, that’s that. Bariatric Surgery was fleetingly mentioned, but he didn’t seem to understand that my top half could slim to Victoria Beckham levels of skeletal (if I was a) a skeleton & b) my bones went on a diet too) but my legs would remain a hideous, bulbous pair of appendages & my circus freakery would increase by about 1000%.
I am, in fact, losing size thanks to Diabetes medications. I say ‘thanks’ to but, frankly, becoming saggy & wrinkly to the point where I CAN FOLD MY BOOBS IN HALF is bloody horrendous. I’ve got precious little going for me at the best of times & this past 6 months of what I’ll politely refer to as Metformin* Arse (*a moment on the lips, an evening on the toilet) has left me shedding size very rapidly down the loo.
I don’t want to lose weight. I have never wanted to be thin. I’ve been tubby all my life despite a childhood of limited food & that undiagnosed Tree Trunk Legged Lymphoedema. I am identified by my size. Without it I wouldn’t be me. I also can’t afford to lose weight. I have a wardrobe of clothes that fit me. How many times would I have to replace all that clothing if I were to diminish? I eat healthily, I work out with my exercise bands, I’m keeping mobile for as long as the MS lets me. Life’s too short to spend the last 20/30 years of mine denying myself when I’m only going to end up a Full Gimp anyway! Those ‘extra’ years you spend a lifetime sacrificing for come right at the end of your life & who wants that extra 2 years gained by walking up the stairs to be spent in agony with arthritis but too demented to care? Screw you Diabetes: I’m having a Star Bar!
In other news, I have a cough. An unceasing, hacking cough. A ‘try to cough your lung out whilst simultaneously having a surreptitious pee’ kind of cough. Joy of bloody joys. Nine days into it & I’m royally fed up & wishing I had the kind of income that could have invested in Tena incontinence pads years ago.
And with that thought plus the boob folding one, I bid you adieu.