Treating Lymphedema with a Simple Trinket

Felicia Mitchell is a survivor of stage 2b HER2-positive breast cancer diagnosed in 2010. Catch up on all of Felicia's blogs here!

My relationship with lymphedema has been more complicated than my relationship with the mastectomy. While I am less stressed about managing lymphedema than I was when first diagnosed during cancer treatment, it has made me more self-conscious than having only one breast.

I should not complain. My lymphedema, despite the occasional lapse as with some overuse last summer and a bad weather moment the other day, is well managed. I have even over the years learned to let myself be seen in sleeveless shirts now and then, especially when I need to take off an overshirt on a hot summer day’s hike (but then I put it back on to avoid too much sun). I am who I am.

The other day, however, I experienced some self-pity when I had to scrape ice and snow from the car in 11-degree weather to get to a doctor’s appointment. My poor right hand grew numb immediately, despite gloves, so I got in the car and held it until it warmed up so I could get back out and finish scraping with only my left hand. Sitting in the car after that, I burst into tears.

Later in the day, feeling vulnerable, I decided to spend an hour in an antique barn I sometimes wander through to clear my head. Not a big shopper, I may buy gifts such as a children’s book published in 1945 or a tiny painted vase or a trinket to adorn a knitting project. Some days I just meander, lost in thought in this museum of the past.

Checking the jewelry cabinet for a pin that might complement a knitted cap, I found myself coveting a bracelet I had looked at many times and passed over. I am at an age when I do not need more jewelry and in fact donated the bulk of superfluous pieces to a charity thrift store. I do not need bracelets either because, if I want to wear one for a special occasion, I have a few that belonged to my mother.

This bracelet I had looked at many times was a scarab bracelet, something I wanted when I was a young woman but could not afford. Staring at it in mental recovery from the morning’s minor ordeal, I asked the clerk if I could try it on. I tried it on. Even though it cost $30, I could have spent it on something practical or a gift for somebody else, I bought it to give to myself for my 69th birthday. Of course, I Googled it too to see if $30 was reasonable; it was more than reasonable.

As soon as I got home, though, I realized that the bracelet would easily fall off my left hand, the hand that I always use for bracelets. No worries, I thought, going through a mental list of people I could give the bracelet to. Or I could donate it to a charity white elephant sale. Then I had a thought. The bracelet was so pretty. What if I tried it on my right and bigger wrist?

It fit like a glove on my lymphedema limb, though loose enough not to impede any lymph flow. So now, wearing it, I bask in the glow of something pretty to remind me of a silver lining I never wanted. When the beautiful scarab stones rest on my hand, I see them and not a hand that is impaired. I see a hand I have treated like a nagging reminder of cancer being honored with something beautiful. I begin to understand why some cancer survivors want tattoos.

My scarab bracelet goes with everything: jeans, leggings, whatever I put on, because it goes best with lymphedema. Best $30 for retail therapy I ever spent.

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