So I've got these bumps on my legs. They're the result of something called erythema nodosum. Don't ask me to pronounce it. I can barely spell it. Suffice it to say the bumps are inflamed fat.
I have no idea what I did to piss off my fat. Maybe it was that diet last year ... otherwise known as The Year of the Carrot.
Yeah. I know. Fat is bad enough at its regular size. It's really bad when fat swells and gets fatter.
The bumps, which are all over my legs below the knees, and are about the size of ping pong balls, are tender and sore. Them I can deal with – what's a few bumps on legs that are already elephantine, criss-crossed with varicose veins, and hairy? The other stuff that goes with them isn't so nice. I have a low grade fever, all my joints are achy, I have an annoying dry cough and I'm short of breath. Like, so short of breath that I can't walk to the bathroom without wheezing. Most of all, I don't have the energy to do anything. I've pretty much given up finishing Nanowrimo. Dave does most of the cooking and it's all I can do to make the bed in the morning and have a bath. Blogging, Facebook – even my beloved Candy Crush – the fate of my books, reading, none of it holds any appeal. And I'm weepy, crying at the stupidest things.
Erythema nodosum, which is relatively rare, is a common by-product of Crohn's disease, and I've had it a few times. Generally my Crohn's medication, Remicade, sends it packing, but I've never had it this bad before. There's not much that can be done about it that I'm not already doing, and the good news is, it doesn't usually last longer than six weeks. In the meantime, I'm lazier than your great Uncle Fred, and spend my days lolling about the sick couch, wheezing and whining.
I am tempted to stick a sewing needle in one of the bumps to see what comes out. I'm thinking they're either volcanoes of goo, or those pods in Cocoon, full of tiny, fat-inflamed aliens.
By the way, the only reason I'm posting today is because I was just downstairs watching Dave paint the family room and I accidentally spilled a cup of paint. Dave was not impressed. I helped clean up, apologized profusely, and ran like the wind ... bumps and all.
P.S. - Yes, that's my smelly foot in the photo. I didn't want to steal someone else's bumps from the internet so I took a photo of one of my own, at the risk of grossing you out. But hey, don't my toenails look pretty? :)