I owe my lymphedema an apology. Over the past 60 days I have put it through the wringer. I’ve done just about everything we are told not to do as lymphedema sufferers. Work 12 hour days, 7 days a week? Check. Subsist on pizza, coffee and Halloween candy? You bet. Exercise? Nope. Meditate? Nah-uh. Wrap? Not a chance.
Why did I put my lymphedema though this abuse? My chosen profession is politics, which means that every September and October is a test of endurance. The last two months before election day are a sprint with much at stake. This year, the future of the county in which I live (as well as my own immediate financial well being) hung in the balance.
Thankfully, this time we came out on top. My boss handily won re-election, and I still have a job. My lymphedema, on the other hand, came in dead last. My body had been so neglected that my lymphatic fluid felt more like lymphatic solid. I was so stiff, I made the Tin Man seem like Stretch Armstrong.
Subsequently, my immune system surrendered to a cold that had been lying in wait for weeks. Getting my body moving and whole again would take more than an oil can.