The View From the Bridge

For years, I have been complaining abouy my feet swelling and turning blue. Because my legs were not hot or painful, nobody got excited about it but the VietNamese woman who does my monthly pedicure. At least somebody worried about my black toenails.

Finally I convinced my GP that it really needed to be looked into, and he gave me a referral to a vascular surgeon. After two different rounds of testing, that good man determined that the problem is not with my blood, but my lymph system – a bit of medical nit-picking – but the results look the same. At any rate, it did finally shake up some action.

So, now I spend an hour, twice a day, sitting with my feet propped up, imitating the Michelin Tire Man. I slide each leg into a pneumotic “garmet”, attach the hose and control box, and let the machine work its magic. I do have to stay put, but I have darned two of The Squire’s socks, sewn on a multitude of buttons, and am now trying my hand at knitting. Last time I did this, we shall simply say it wasn’t a success, and leave it at that. I got a loom at the local thrift shop, and we’re going to try doing that again. I did go to the library and grabbed some books, The author I chose isn’t very good, in my opinion.

I don’t like a lot of blood-and-guts. I’m not a Patricia Cornwell fan, but I do like a bit of action in a book, especially if it is “off-stage”. Mary Ellen Hughes writes a lot of books about Maryland, which are fun.

Laura Lippman was a reporter with the Baltimore Sun and wrote some terrific mysteries, loosely based on events in the news – changed a bit to “protect the innocent”. A Baltimorean could tell exactly where the story took place, which made them fun to read, but after a while, her writing got too “dark” for me.