Learning to Dance With a One-Legged Tan

Okay, I know that’s a crazy title for a blog post but I just had to. And that’s because there are several things that I want to tell you about and don’t know which one to include in the title. So, sometimes you just have to put it all in one mouthful. 

My almost-seven-year-old grandson totally gets that. When he’s hungry and the food looks so good, he just can’t decide which part to taste first. So he just stuffs it all in. Like a bad blog title. You just have to do it. But then that’s what freedom smells like sometimes. Do it now and deal with the consequences later. (Don’t ever tell him I said that. It’s just that I get it too.) I don’t condone that as a habit, but I know how it feels when you just have to, now and then.

Tomorrow (Monday, March 30^th) my drain will be removed. There’s an immense amount of relief which that thought brings me. So many things are going to revert to normal. I can walk without looking like my legs dried over a beer barrel. I can wear normal clothes (i.e. ones that don’t need to hide this protrusion hanging on the outside of my leg). I can go out in public. I can sleep on my side (when I’m not out in public). My daily personal routine will take at least three and a half minutes less to complete. And Sharyn will have so much more time for living because she doesn’t have to change the dressings on my wounds. So many simple things in life that I’ve always taken for granted!

One of the realities of having all those lymph nodes removed from my body is that there will be nowhere for the lymph from my lower left leg to go for processing. So left on its own it will just flow up to where the nodes used to be, in the groin area, and sit there with nothing to do and nowhere to go. Normally this fluid would eventually be processed by the lymph nodes and eventually passed into the bloodstream as part of its cleansing process. (This of course, is my simple-minded, layman’s rendition of how it all works.)

Accumulation of this lymph fluid in the absence of lymph nodes causes swelling—a condition known as lymphedema. Left untreated it can result in all sorts of other health complications. Not the least of which are awkward stares from curious people who notice that my left thigh is considerably larger than the right one. (What they will never know is that I have a one-legged leg press routine that only consumes half the normal workout time at my gym. Furthermore, I bought the equipment at half price because the right side is missing. The last laugh is mine!)

There really is no cure for lymphedema, but there are ways to deal with it and live with it. Many of these are simply to help the body compensate for the lack of nodes at the end of the road by rerouting the flow of the lymph so that it can be processed by other nodes further up the body. Easy concept. “Of course!” one might say. But how?

That’s where the one-legged tan comes in.  Compression stockings (actually only one stocking is all I need) will be a part of my life for the rest of my days. They are designed in such a way as to put constant but differing amounts of pressure in different sections of the leg, in order to push the lymph up the leg and past the PWTANLN (technical term for the “place-where-there-are-no-lymph-nodes”). Apparently these stockings come in all sorts of designs, bright colors and materials. I just discovered that you can even get some that are made of bamboo.

Now I haven’t actually seen any compression stockings made of bamboo, but I’m trying to visualize what it would look like to have my left leg, all the way up to my thigh, inside a bamboo pole. Bending over to tie my shoe would present a challenge don’t you think?  When I was a kid we used to build all sorts of things out of the bamboo that grew wild in the part of India where we lived. But I don’t ever recall trying to put my whole leg inside a bamboo pole. But times have changed and you never know what they might have come up with. Maybe some sort of GMO bamboo that ends up looking like a compression stocking?

You’ve probably seen people wearing a style of compression stocking that looks like a bad toupee. (Don’t all toupees look bad, you say? Well, no. Only when you know it’s a toupee is it bad.) But you know those compression stockings that are supposed to look like a flesh color, but don’t? They’re the kind that people stare at and are embarrassed when they’re caught staring. Yikes! I don’t want to be relegated to such a fate.

I’ve decided that if I have to wear a compression stocking, people are going to notice it and not be embarrassed to stare at it. Laugh, maybe. Shriek and point, maybe. But not stare at and be embarrassed.

I love summer. I love warm. I love to play golf in the warm summer. And there’s no more comfortable clothing to wear than shorts. I love to let the sun gradually change the color of my legs from winter tepid to well-tanned. (Now if you are about to wag your finger at me at this point, I need to tell you that the cancer dermatologist assured me that the kind of cancer that I’ve had is never caused by exposure to the sun. So there!)

So I plan to wear shorts. On both legs. That means that someone (everyone that sees me, most likely) is going to notice that my legs don’t match. One will be covered by this very noticeable, quite bold compression stocking. The other will be pleasantly tanned. A one-legged tan. (By the way, if you ever see some other guy out there with a one-legged tan and a bright compression stocking on the other leg, he’ll be the guy that I rented my other stocking to, because I had to buy them as a pair.)

Now where does learning to dance fit into all this? I have a confession to make. I’m a closet dancer. I don’t think I would ever get up and dance in front of other people. Or even in front of the mirror. (That’s a scary thought!) I just wouldn’t have the guts to do that. (Or maybe too much gut to do that?) I know, you’re thinking that anyone who’d wear a compression stocking of the sort I’m threatening to wear, surely is not afraid of being embarrassed. Okay, you have a point. So maybe someday I’ll dance in public. Maybe at my funeral, just before they bury me, because after that they can laugh at me all they want. I’ll be laughing too!

But I really do dance. Inside my body. Most times when I’m in a large group of people (like in church or something like that) and there’s some awesome music happening, my spirits are lifted and I want to dance so badly! I almost secretly imagine myself moving out into the aisle and just letting go. But I don’t. So I dance inside. I wish I could dance outside, but I don’t think my physical body would be able to reproduce the motions that I’m envisioning. Maybe I’m just scared. I don’t really know.

My friend Charmaine, commenting on my recent blog in which I lamented the kind of garments I’ve had to wear over the past few weeks, wished me this: “What freedom to lead the procession to the house of God with shouts of joy and thanksgiving, among the festive throng—in garments that don't restrict!” Oh, how I long for that day! In the Bible we read about David. He was a king and a son and a father and a brother and a husband. He was a winner and at times a real loser. But in all that he was also a marvelous musician and dancer. (David, I think, was never afraid of what people thought about him. Maybe at times he should have been, but I think he was not. In a way, I admire him for that.) So many times David led the procession of people while dancing and singing in worship. It must have pleased God. I wish I could do that.

Maybe one of the reasons I haven’t really danced (much, outside my skin, that is) is that I’m waiting for the right opportunity to come along. Or to be surrounded by the right people. Or for nobody to be looking. Or to get over my fears and inhibitions. Or maybe even because people think that I’m sick or something and that it just wouldn’t look right to be so happy when I have no reason to be! Whaaaat!?

I’ve decided something. I’ve made a resolution. I don’t know how this is going to work out, but I’m finished with hoping something is going to change on its own.

I am so done with waiting for the storm to pass! I’m going to learn to dance in the rain!

So help me, God. (And I know he will.)

Selah