Who In the World Let You Come Back?

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Recently, I’ve been battling my Lymphedema again. I was diagnosed, after a minor surgery to rule out the C word, and figure out why I had pain and enlarged nodules under my right arm. It’s not unusual to have bouts with my chronic illness from time-to-time, especially when I fly, when the seasons drastically change or if I do heavy lifting, which I’m not supposed to do. Given that I’ve done all of those things having flown this year to Baltimore and Anaheim with few troubles, experiencing the seasons changing from cold to hot with no troubles and having moved an entire house into another house with little trouble I thought I’d finally made it to full-on Lymphedema management stage, until a couple of weeks ago when the pain and swelling of my right arm came back with a vengeance. I mean that thing came out swangin’ knowing I couldn’t swing back.

 

I’ll be honest. I was mad. Like for real. I was mad. I was mad because I thought I could at least cross Lymphedema off of my “to-do” list, and place it on my “can’t be bothered” roster. I was aware of the maintenance aspect, and up for that challenge, but over the last couple of years, God has quickly taken care of me when the pain arrived and I could move on business as usual. This time, was different. Desperate for relief I did what I would normally do when a bout flared up. I revved up the prayers and prayer partners. I scheduled a massage and another one when that one didn’t fully do what I needed. I took time off to rest it. I resumed wearing my glove. I conducted my manual massages and all of that good stuff and no relief. I even called my Lymphedema specialist, the only one in this entire region, who just so happened to have moved to Murfreesboro, TN shortly after I no longer needed her. I didn’t hear back from her, as I’m sure her wait time now is longer than the six months it was when I was referred to her years ago. So my question to this temporary lymph node nemesis was, “who in the world let you come back?”

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Then, as Facebook and it’s On This Day app would remind me, today, May 25th, marks the exact 5th anniversary of my Lymphadema diagnosis. Talk about a God having a sense of humor. Not only did it remind me of the date it reminded me of what I said on that date. Here’s what I mustered up enough arm strength to type from my trusty Blackberry.

Angela Scott Moore

May 25, 2011 at 8:53am ·

And the plot thickens…so there’ve been some serious complications from my surgery in March. I won’t complain, but instead will compare this to the other times I’ve seen God move in my life. Each time my body has been attacked my blessings have been attached. So as the plot thickens so does my praise!!!! (If I don’t respond to your calls, texts or fb posts right away forgive me. I’ll be back soon:)

And so it is. If it’s time for another round I guess I better hop back on the saddle and ride this thing on out. I felt bad for even being mad. Shame on me. I have no right to complain. I simply don’t.To quote that wise old 39 year old Angela Michele of old…”Each time my body has been attached my blessings have been attached. So as the plot thickens so does my praise!!!!” I’m shifting my focus to praising and planning the celebration while nervous at the same time because I have absolutely no idea what my God could be up to now because He’s already been SO, SO good. Anywho, I’ll keep you posted. You keep praying.

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***And while you’re praying for me, please pray for others who battle this illness in ways FAR worse than I. (Google Lymphedema please). Insurance doesn’t often cover treatment. Treatment for some is deemed impossible. Breast cancer is sometimes a component to this disease. The physical aspect can often pail in comparison to the mental and emotional issues attached to having a limb much larger than the other. My case is so very, very, very minor compared to so many. I truly have so much for which to be thankful. Please add those who battle the painful illness Lymphedema to your prayers.

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@AngelaMMoore316

 

Sickness Stinks, but Healing is SWEET

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I type this blog post from the beautiful Disneyland Resort in Anaheim, California. This unexpected, perfectly timed, all-expenses paid trip to celebrate the professional success of a loved one has been nothing short of amazing. It truly has been inspiring, eye-opening, refreshing, filled with gratitude and FUN all in one!!!! I’m truly grateful to be here as a guest.
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The six+ hours to get here from Birmingham, with a running through the Houston airport “layover” which only lasted about 20 minutes and a delicious turkey and fig with cream cheese sandwich on the United flight was memorable to say the least. The high elevation on the flight to Cali was also a reminder that I have Lymphedema, but God is still good.
Any person with Lymphedema knows that we should wear our garments on flights because of the change in air pressure. Well, since I haven’t worn a sleeve or glove in a couple of years, I forgot to put one on pre-flight. As the plane rose, I could feel my arm’s lymphatic fluid doing the same. I panicked! My mind immediately went back to the big, fat hurting (and expensive) arm I’d dealt with for years, thinking that my trip to “the greatest place on earth” would be marred by pain. Well, it wasn’t and it isn’t. I massaged my arm, as I’ve been accustomed to doing since my diagnosis in 2011. I didn’t lay on it while sleeping. I shook my hand when feeling it become full and I MOVED ON! God is good. There were days, not too long ago, where this would not have happened. But God is good! He’s a healer on His on terms, in His own time and in His on way. Now, will I immediately get a soft- tissue massage when I get back home to make sure all which is well stays well with my lymphatic system?. Yes! But will I declare without reservation that by His stripes we are healed? YES!
For all who are going through matters regarding health, be it physical, mental, spiritual, or emotional, whether it’s yours to carry or pertaining to someone for which you care, just know that HEALING is in the house! You must believe that! For God’s children sickness can not show up without healing chasing it down and run it over at its heels.
We have to do our part in the Lord’s plans toward our healing. That means seeing a doctor, seeking therapy and staying with it, taking medications, changing our habits, getting rid of fear, revising our routines, and first and foremost knowing what the Bible says about healing, reading it, praying it, rehearsing it and looking for it. Have faith, my friends and hold to it tightly. Then be prepared to celebrate and share what He’s done as you see healing in action through epic displays. #Matthew813
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@AngelaMMoore316

My Bra Hurts

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Recently I was lamenting to my sister about the status of my half bra. It hurts. I mean it Hurts with a capital “H”! In 2011 I was diagnosed with Lymphedema, the buildup of fluid called lymph in the tissues under your skin when something blocks its normal flow. This causes swelling, most commonly in an arm or leg. My Lymphedema just so happens to have happened in my right arm. (Check me out posing in the ATL a few years ago with my funky-fresh compression sleeve on and my badge of honor (that scar under my arm) of what I’ve endured.)

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Since going through treatments, therapies, fads and new-fangled products I’ve been mostly healed of the disease. I manage it daily myself, and usually don’t have problems unless I’m flying or exercising (I have to wear a compression garment), when the seasons change, if I lift something too heavy, when I get extremely hot and when I wear that daggum half bra.

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That bra, that beloved half bra, has seen me through cute times too many to recall. But it hurts. It hurts so very badly. So when I told my sister about the bra hurting me she said through her matter-of-fact face, “Well, just get yourself another one.” “I can’t,” I said. “It’s too expensive,” I complained. “It’s too hard to find my size,” I whined. Then again, in a matter-of-fact face which has only been intensified since she entered the world of motherhood she turned to me and said, “Oh well. Just keep on hurting then.” Boom! Just like that she shut me up, shut me down and reflected an attitude many of us take on in life.

Why was I willing to allow something to keep hurting me when I didn’t have to, especially when I was in control? All I had to do was buy a new bra. Simple. And plain. Why did I find every excuse possible to keep wearing the bra rather than just toss it and buy a new one. Sure, it’s going to be expensive. But so is physical therapy when my Lymphedema flares up. Sure, my “special” size is hard to find, but so are a lot of other things I might have scoured the internet, shopping malls and specialty stores for in the past. Sure, I don’t even wear that half bra that often but when I do I want to pull my weaved hair out strand by strand and that makes no sense. Sure I could just settle for what used to work, but it doesn’t work for me anymore so that settles it.

Bras and I have had an interesting relationship through the years. Because of my generationally transferred upper physique they’re one of those things simply not on the top of my “must have the fanciest and frilliest” list. I never really cared to know much about the importance of bras, especially as they are so instrumental in providing foundation and support. Much like my life, I’ve also had the tendency to invest more in things related to others than me, being a foundation or support, but not always investing in building my very own foundation and support.  I’d like to blame that one on genes too. (I hope they’re reading this…LOL!) That’s all changing now, thanks to the fluff and stuff under my right arm compliments of Lymphedema. I’m about to step my bra game and life game up. Just watch me…well, not really, but you get my drift.

@AngelaMMoore316

Long Hair…I Care

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Most of you have traveled with me on, or at some point heard about my journey to and through the worlds of wigs, long hair, disappearing hair, short hair and wigs again. I first wrote about it a couple of Facebook blog posts called When Life Gives You Lemons Wear a Wig and God Tested My Pretty and Gave Me His Cheat Sheet.

To make a long story short I spent about five years growing my hair through the protection of tree braids (Google it). It grew. It looked great. I was excited and couldn’t wait to enjoy the rewards of my patience and the blessings of the gift God gave my stylist Toya Long. For a few months I flipped and shook my hair, opting for super-straight on some days and flowing curls on the other. Then in March of 2011 I underwent surgery to have lymph nodes removed. There was no cancer thankfully, but the anesthesia did a doozy on my hair! It was falling out and shedding like a sheep in the hands of a happy shepherd with scissors. To add to the matter, a month later I developed Lymphedema in my right arm (I’m right-handed) which made it difficult to nearly impossible on some days to literally comb my hair.

So in span of less than one year I went from this (Yes, that’s all my hair compliments of the FABULOUS Toya Long):

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To This:

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To a lot of wonderful wig looks in between and finally this on yesterday, October 1:

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I will be the first to admit that fear had a lot to do with me waiting so long to at least have my hair professionally blown out and cut. I was afraid of “what lies beneath”. I was afraid that styling my hair would hurt the healing I’d worked so hard to have in my arm. I was afraid that my hair wouldn’t be as cute as I wanted it to be or as cute as it used to be. (I know I’m not the only one who falls into the occasional concern of things in life not being as good as they used to be). I was afraid of it frizzing up and fluffing out to embarrassing heights reminiscent of my 7th grade year in Physical Education at Homewood Middle School when my mama wouldn’t let me get a perm or a Jheri Curl. I was afraid of a lot of different things regarding my hair, but I decided to take the leap. My stylists, Toya, was so comforting as she began to unravel and discover what the last three years left. She was so assuring in her words, and so set on creating the perfect color (affectionately known as Sassy Copper) for my new reveal. I’m grateful for her.

(Side Note… God has a sense of humor! Sometimes I think He has to just be sure I’m “down for the cause” in case things STILL don’t turn out the way I want to. Today I woke up excited to take down my pin curls only to find that my curly do was a bit frizzy because of the way I pinned it AND the curly-curls were tickling the back of my neck. With my lymphedema, one lingering side effect is not liking to have anything heavy or tickling on my neck where the fluid sometimes still backs up. SO…I pinned that hair to the top of my head in a hurried tribute to  Audrey Hepburn, with a natural girl, new millennium twist… and am still grateful.)

Now, will I retire my hair accessories (wigs) forever? Absolutely not. Is my hair back yet to where it was before all I endured? Absolutely not. Does that concern me? Absolutely not. Am I grateful for the journey, regardless of the unexpected route it took my tresses and me? Absolutely, I am. Do I still know that it’s not about the outside, but what’s on the inside that counts? Absolutely, I do.  Am I, like my hair, growing more and more each day compliments of this lesson in life? Absolutely, I am.

The moral of this story: We are who we are… long hair, short hair, no hair, or new hair, and that’s the best person we can be. We owe it to ourselves to make the most out of where God has us and what He gives us, but never underestimating His ability to restore in His own precious time and in His own sweet way.

 

@AngelaMMoore316