Thanks for all good wishes. I think the community we have built on MyBloggers is wonderfully supportive and a breath of sanity …
The procedure went smoothly. They have a standard for how much tissue to remove to achieve the best results. They used to carve out a lot more than what is done now. The doctor, youngish, said he would try to minimize the scarring. I am to be careful about the sun – wear a hat, he says. That won’t happen. I’ll just walk really early when I am allowed to walk again. I think I annoyed him because I kept asking what I could do. Basically, nothing.

The most difficult part of the aftermath is that I am not to do any exercise. I don’t just move because it’s good for me. I move because I can’t stay still. So no walking, no biking, no weights, no mini jumps, no releves, no leg arcs with weights, keep the leg up when sitting, and worst of all, no stretching. Okay to just walk around the house. Kill me now. The only way to fight the consequences is to eat less. So I won’t (I think) be having wine with dinner and I may also not have my chocolate afterwards. Just one, but obscenely rich.

I was wakeful for part of the night and for the first time, worried about what they might find on the second biopsy. It will be what it will be and a bad result means more aggressive removal of tissue. I won’t know for two weeks.

So last night I had one of my mini nightmares, but that, really, has nothing to do with what just happened. I’ve been having them. A black cloud tried to engulf me, so, to get away from it, I jumped up and ran to the dressing room. Then, slowly, I regained “reality” and went back to bed. I had a talk with my subconscious and told it to stop the nonsense because “If I go, you go too” and things have been better since “the talk”, but maybe the leg business has set me back.

I also had a bit of a worry about Max. He got on to our bed which he rarely does and stayed there from about 2 p.m. and through most of the night, till about 5 this morning. That upset Chewy, because the bed is “his” and he only shares with Brunswick. So I comforted him and he settled down elsewhere. Max’s sloth changed my mind about the source of the major vomit I had found in the living room earlier. I had thought it was Chewy, whose digestion is more fragile, but it must have been Max, and it might have been gecko remains that I scooped up before treating the rug with Resolve. Ed was upset too, though he often refers to Max as “the monster cat” and Max was so needy that he didn’t move away when Ed petted him and that softened Ed up a lot. As a matter of fact, it was Ed’s leg Max was sleeping on most of the night.

In any case, Max got over his malaise and was interested in food and adventure this morning and that’s a big relief.

Again, hugs to all and thanks. What would I do widoutchas.

xx, Teal