So the consensus from the Docs seems to be that the new bruise on my arm is not some nefarious underlying cause, but a bruise. (Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.) Apparently, radiation therapy on a lower extremity (i.e., below the knee or elbow) routinely causes bruising in people who are prone. That said, both the surgeon who did the initial surgery in August and the radiation doc said to wait and see whether it clears up on its own, w/o leaving any evidence behind, over the next few weeks. So that's what I have to try and do. At least I'm 2/3's of the way done.
Meanwhile, I got my hair cut short -- Debbie Rothley or Liz Storer style. Curly girls don't get "pixie" cuts -- they requires straight hair. My hair looks like it did after I got it cut the spring of my senior year in college because I wanted to look grown up. Hasn't been this way since my 20's. It will work well for the month that I'm in a sling, and it doesn't look bad (Ben said, "nice haircut" but given that he'd been so angry he wasn't speaking to me the day before, I'm not sure exactly how to take the comment), but I'm not sure I'll keep it after I'm two-handed again.
The whole business with Ben is distressing, and there's been more snapping in this house than ever before. We have to be careful not to degenerate into full bore negativity -- especially not now that we most need the power of positive thinking, and notwithstanding that we appear to be standing not at the threshold, but in the middle of classic teen-dom. With homecoming this weekend, no less -- oh my.
No comments:
Post a Comment