I have been somewhat sporadically binging episodes of the TV show Elementary, starring Jonny Lee Miller as Sherlock and Lucy Liu as Watson. As all Holmes fans are aware, the man was a drug addict, but in the contemporary version he has become sober and is maintaining his sobriety, first through rehab, then with the help of Watson as a “sober companion,” and afterwards in the more traditional way of getting a sponsor and following “the program.” In the episode I was watching tonight, Sherlock was ruminating on the depressing realities of life as a sober person, and his words struck me so forcefully that I rewound and wrote them down. He said,

I found myself nodding along; although lipedema and lymphedema are not an addiction but rather an affliction, the necessities just to maintain ground are similarly taxing and relentless. Drink adequate fluids, elevate the legs, wear compression, exercise as much as you are able, use such tools as the vibration platform or the massage gun as substitutes for and/or additions to the exercise, and cut every potentially inflammatory food out of your diet—sugar, gluten, dairy, eggs, certain oils, nightshade vegetables, the list is endless. And none of this is done with the expectation of any great improvement, but rather simply not to get worse. Like Sherlock, I am bemused and dismayed not by the length of the list but rather by the amount of time and thought it takes “not to drip.”

I have written a lot here about my anticipation that the pneumatic lymphatic press pants will go far towards remedying my lymphedema; but that, like all the other things listed here, is a therapy rather than a solve.

One can’t help but wonder (or wish) if there is some magic formula out there that might turn things around. I’ve been looking into such subjects as autoimmune diseases (some postulate that lipedema is one of them), the use of pre- and pro-biotics, the effects (good and bad) of various hormones at specific levels, and wondering, What if all it would take to, for instance, fix my sleep patterns (which, if you read the research, have an enormous impact on every other condition) is to lower my cortisol by taking daily doses of progesterone? What if gut health is the key to making all the swelling of the lymph go away? What if scientists and doctors were to communicate more frequently and more effectively so that when you go to the doctor, she doesn’t test your thyroid or your cortisol and blithely dismiss your queries with, Oh, you’re within the normal parameters, but rather has learned to look deeper and see the small anomalies that might affect one person but not another? What if the doctor didn’t look at me and have the kneejerk response that if I would just lose weight, all my problems would magically disappear?

Since much of the research out there has come from naturopathic doctors—those who are more open to alternative medicine (and no, I’m not talking acupuncture or hypnotism, I’m talking chemical analyses)—I’m now looking into adding yet one more doctor to my “stable,” hoping for some much desired stability in my future, ideally without so much daily effort. Because, as Sherlock so eloquently said (courtesy of some skilled writers from the WGA, who deserve to receive everything for which they are striking), “Above all, it’s tedious.”