That Stupid, Stupid Leg Brace

Lauren tells me tonight that the stupid doctors should have to wear the stupid, big, black brace at night so they can see for themselves how uncomfortable the stupid thing is.  She needs to wear the stupid thing to make sure that she maintains full extension on her leg.  In other words, it's all about how straight she can make and keep her leg.

The problem is this: the stupid, big, black brace isn't super comfy... and she's got a fresh incision that runs about 18" down her leg from the top of her hip past her knee.  Ace bandages scratch her skin at the velcro connection (even when it's tucked and positioned properly) and yoga pants are too hot underneath.  We haven't tried tights, but that seems extreme for sleepwear. The brace cannot go directly on the skin because it also scratches. Arg!  What's a girl to do?  Well, if she's my girl, curses the thing with loud and colorful vocabulary, dissolve in tears, takes her night meds, and tries to fall asleep (eventually succeeding) in the stupid, stupid leg brace, all the while cursing those stupid doctors and the stupid cancer.

My heart breaks for Lauren when she's so desperate and sad.  It's wearing. Resolve and good intentions break down.  Energy lags.  And it all gets a little too much.  The wicked dexamethasone takes 2-3 days to leave her system: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dexamethasone
Steroid rage is a real and ugly thing.  It's not fun for anyone, especially Lauren.  One moment she's fine, the next she's spitting fire, the next she's laughing, and the very next minute she's weeping uncontrollably. It's days like this that we all try to muddle through the best we can.

Tonight (pre-stupid black brace breakdown) we braved the early evening mist, otherwise known as spring in Seattle.  We walked next door to MetroMart and bought an odd array of items for a picnic on the bed.  I posted our goofy dinner to FaceBook as we watched a marathon of movies featuring Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow.  We spoke like pirates and tried to think happy thoughts.  We tried not to feel sad or annoyed or frustrated as we pulled crispy skin off Lauren's chicken and fed it to Skittles.  Lauren looked up nearby massage and nail places (pedicures) for a Mother's Day mother/daughter outing.  And both of us tried not to cry.  It's a tough assignment some days.

We're going to get back on the physical therapy bandwagon tomorrow. She's got leg lifts to do, as well as stretches.  There are so many things that Lauren is REQUIRED to do, places she has to go, procedures she has to endure.  But tomorrow we're gonna sleep in.

As for me, I hope for a little less steroid madness--my sweet daughter as Linda Blair from the Exorcist. Steroids do awful things to some people. We get it, the crazies, complete with 360 degree head turning and bodies flying around the room.  But as bad as it gets, as angry or frustrated as I become, I find it hard to be angry with Lauren.  She didn't ask for this.

How many times can I say "Cancer Sucks" before it sounds hackneyed and/or cliche?  Cancer Sucks.  "Yeah, thanks for the news alert, Captain Obvious."

I promise, reader, that not every CaringBridge posting here on Lauren's site will be drippy and depressing.  I wonder, sometimes, if others suffer the same kind of "bummer fatigue" that I feel day to day.  Who wants to read sad news all the time.  I mean, where are the dancing men in gold lamé? Where are the wish granting unicorns, who eat candy corn and poop glitter? Where is my winning lotto ticket and my four leaf clover? More importantly, where are these things for Lauren?

Happy thoughts.  Keeping our faces to the sun.