Cheerfully I sit down on the examination table. Surprisingly I was excited for my 3-month post surgery check-in. I had a burning question:
Did the surgery work?
The surgeon’s assistant came in, asked me a few questions, and then proceeded to mark me up… with a marker… Big numbered dots. She took my measurements. I felt like a piece of meat.
When she was done she told me that the surgeon would be in shortly. When he arrived we chatted for a moment or two. He looked at my leg, assessed that there was still a fair amount of lymph in there and explained to me that…
The surgery did not work.
Why? You ask. Good question. I have fibrosis in my leg. The lymph-fluid that has hardened over time because it hasn’t moved… the cement in the cement mixer that just got dumped and didn’t get spun around to keep it fluid was in my leg. But why didn’t the surgery work? Because the surgery only works on patients that have flow issues… not fibrosis issues. But yet, he still did the surgery even after recognizing that my issues were fibrotic and now fluid.
Furious, I reeled to understand my new line of questioning. He, however, proceeded to pitch me on doing another surgery. Another surgery?! When I asked about the pain in my foot from bandaging (which keeps me up at night consistently), he told me to talk to an orthopedic surgeon to get the bone shaved down.
And that’s where I drew the line… I am not a science experiment. I am a human. Not a piece of meat...