It's been Day 9 since my EVLT procedure. And today, as much as it was nine days ago, I stick firm on the decision that I will never voluntarily choose to have EVLT done again.
Last night was the first time that I was able to have a reprieve from the pain and discomfort. I even skipped a dosage of ibuprofen. I did take another 1000mg this morning since I knew that I would be up and around, in and out of the office for work. Besides the lingering throb and the muscle pull feeling, the latest nuisance is the chap stocking which is now too big that it is carving into the top of my thigh/groin area. Gotta love it!
I did call the doctor's office on Monday. It's amazing what people will tell you when you ask the right questions. Clearly the answer to most questions, "It depends on the person." Thanks. Thank you very much! The pain should subside around day 10 or so, if it continues, contact the doctor (but in my case - they are closed for Thanksgiving!). There will be a large bump which will dissipate with time. Elevate, elevate, elevate.
I learned about the elevation on my own, in a way. It may have been recommended within the first 24 hours. After about 7 days, I decided while sleeping to wedge a pillow between my thigh and knee. I found that I slept much better without the constant hard surface pain of the touch either against the bed or my other leg. I also learned from calling the doctor's office that you don't have to wear the compression stocking 24/7. If you find it beneficial, you may sleep in it, but this isn't necessary. Wearing the compression stocking is only necessary when up and around. Sigh, nice to know. So in addition to the pillow, not wearing the stocking at night has been a blessing. Although, timing may also add to the relief and the new found ability to almost walk normally after I wake.
The thought of hitting the gym or normal walking gait still isn't feasible. I'm hoping by next week this shouldn't be a problem. I still have a slight limp and if I try to walk at my normal pace, it's more than difficult as well as painful.
As far as the results of the EVLT? I haven't a clue. I no longer can see the pooling, but still have the main discoloration that was present before the procedure. I will likely also have a few small scars from the actual procedure, but I haven't ventured to check it out since mere touch of the upper thigh has put me in tears on more than several occasions. I have my two-week follow up on Monday. Then maybe I'll learn the real truth.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Keys
What's more important to you and why?
The keys to your heart or the keys to your home?
I have no easy answer for this. Both keys are extremely sacred and special to me. Both keys involve trust, immense amounts of trust. Likely for many, this isn't true.
Growing up, I will never forget my dad's philosophy on locking our house..."If someone needs to steal it, they must need it more than we do." Our house was only locked when we went on vacation, twice a year. And often, that was when our house was noticeably broken into.
Have times changed? Do we covet our personal belongings and possessions?
When I first bought my house, the previous owner never locked her house. The day that I was suppose to walk through the house, the realtor didn't show and the neighbor told me to go in anyway. I convinced her to walk through with me so that I wasn't accused of trespassing or stealing anything. After I bought my house, I didn't always lock my house either. It wasn't until the dissolution of my marriage that I began to lock my house. I changed the locks. In the past couple years I've finally stopped making sure the windows were only opened to the safety locks when I was gone. I will even randomly not lock the house if I'll be gone for a short time. But I still lock it if I'm gone for longer periods. The doors are always locked when I'm in for the night. My house is my home. It's mine (well and the mortgage company's for now!).
The key to my heart...something much less tangible. It isn't physical in the sense that you can put it on your key chain. I'm not sure how many people I've ever truly trusted with the key to my heart. Even some of my best friends or ex's, over the years, I may have shut off parts of my heart. Parts that I no longer want to subject or make vulnerable or be able to bear the pain of others. Pain of disappointment.
From an emotional standpoint, the key to my heart is much more important. I have insurance to replace anything in my home. I have memories to remind me of what I may have had if something happens. But the key to my heart is sacred. It unlocks the vulnerability that very few will see or should see. Both are very important to me, both that without trust I hold intensely.
Who holds the key to your heart? Who holds the key to your house?
The keys to your heart or the keys to your home?
I have no easy answer for this. Both keys are extremely sacred and special to me. Both keys involve trust, immense amounts of trust. Likely for many, this isn't true.
Growing up, I will never forget my dad's philosophy on locking our house..."If someone needs to steal it, they must need it more than we do." Our house was only locked when we went on vacation, twice a year. And often, that was when our house was noticeably broken into.
Have times changed? Do we covet our personal belongings and possessions?
When I first bought my house, the previous owner never locked her house. The day that I was suppose to walk through the house, the realtor didn't show and the neighbor told me to go in anyway. I convinced her to walk through with me so that I wasn't accused of trespassing or stealing anything. After I bought my house, I didn't always lock my house either. It wasn't until the dissolution of my marriage that I began to lock my house. I changed the locks. In the past couple years I've finally stopped making sure the windows were only opened to the safety locks when I was gone. I will even randomly not lock the house if I'll be gone for a short time. But I still lock it if I'm gone for longer periods. The doors are always locked when I'm in for the night. My house is my home. It's mine (well and the mortgage company's for now!).
The key to my heart...something much less tangible. It isn't physical in the sense that you can put it on your key chain. I'm not sure how many people I've ever truly trusted with the key to my heart. Even some of my best friends or ex's, over the years, I may have shut off parts of my heart. Parts that I no longer want to subject or make vulnerable or be able to bear the pain of others. Pain of disappointment.
From an emotional standpoint, the key to my heart is much more important. I have insurance to replace anything in my home. I have memories to remind me of what I may have had if something happens. But the key to my heart is sacred. It unlocks the vulnerability that very few will see or should see. Both are very important to me, both that without trust I hold intensely.
Who holds the key to your heart? Who holds the key to your house?
EVLT
Endovenous Laser Treatment of the Saphenous Vein (EVLT).
My new worst enemy. I can admit that I feel completely deceived. Completely blindsided. Maybe it's just a momentary/minute amount of pain and suffering to be endured for the long haul. Maybe not.
See, the reality, the varicose veins of mine, weren't painful. Ugly, yes. Painful, no.
I could have never imagined the procedure or the aftermath of the brief procedure. My first recommendation for anyone considering treatment DO NOT SCHEDULE DURING THE SUMMER (and fortunately for me, I didn't - mere coincidence). Second suggestion, DO NOT PLAN ANYTHING FOR SEVERAL DAYS TO A WEEK AFTERWARD (unless of course you have like to walk around with a tight ace bandage on your leg and sport a stocking for the week after - again fortunately I'm Ok with nothing in the schedule and that I can wear pants!).
The procedure was very quick. As described in my written material, "Endovenous laser treatment is a minimally invasive option for treating the saphenous vein reflux (leaky valves). The first stage of your procedure will involve numbing the skin and then inserting a thin catheter (plastic tube fed up your diseased saphenous vein, (the superficial vein along the inside of your calf and/or thigh)."...More numbing..."The laser catheter is then slowly pulled back while delivering energy to the vein wall, causing it to heat, collapse and seal shut."
Long story short, the numbing process took the longest of the procedure, with the actual laser treatment lasting about 90 seconds. From the time I checked in at the desk to walking out, it was less than 25 minutes. I'm not a fan of needles, so I was fortunate that I couldn't see the IV, which the doctor claimed would be the most painful part. He lied.
Then when numbing the upper thigh, he informed me that I would feel a slight series of pokes. He lied again. I thought of RUR and his smile and pushed hard on my rib cage with each extreme jab that repetitively went into the thigh down to the knee. Poke my...! Maybe it was more painful for me due to the muscles in my thigh. Who knows, but it hurt.
Then there was the use of the laser. He warned that I may smell or taste something. MAY? He lied, yet again.
Smell or taste was the clearly under exaggerated! He did joke that it would only last a few weeks, which it did subside shortly after the laser treatment was complete. The smell...burning rubber.
The taste? I have never in my life smoked a cigarette. When I was young, I wanted to. I would sit in my mom's car when she ran into the store and push in the push lighter. I would burn her cigarettes that were in the ashtray. I would hold them in my hands. I would lift the partial cigarettes toward my lips, never coming closer than my chin. I couldn't do it. I wouldn't do it. I don't know why. Now, I despise the smell of cigarettes. I can't stand the smell of smoke lingering in my hair and my clothes and my being from going out on the town. I hate that I wreak of an ashtray after home calls of smokers. I'm glad that I've never tried a cigarette. So the taste you ask? Cigarette ashes.
I can't tell you how or why I know this. For those brief minutes of reality, which seemed like thousands of seconds of hell, in the back of my throat, I tasted cigarette ash. I felt like I was licking the ashes from an ashtray. It was disgusting and appalling and anything but surreal.
After the doctor was done, I was informed that I have to wear the ace bandage for five days. If it happens to fall off (maybe with some assistance of my own) in three or four days, that's OK. Then I have to wear my "chap stocking" for a week to prevent blood clots. Ibuprofen was recommended (400-600mg) for pain, especially since day 2-3 can be the most severe.
I used to think that I had a high pain tolerance. I was wrong. I've been popping ibuprofen like candy every 5-6 hours at 1000mg each. My upper thigh is beyond swollen and I feel like I'm a 500# sumo wrestler. The pain is more intense than the feeling of a "slight muscle pull" that I might feel.
If nothing else, I want the truth. I can handle it. But what I hate the most, deceit. Tell me that if I want to be varicose vein free it will hurt like hell for up to two weeks. Tell me that I'll taste cigarette ash for longer than I ever want to admit. Tell me that I can't workout for a week and showering will be a challenge. Tell me that I'll be in discomfort and that while I can work, I won't want to. Tell me that my inner thigh will feel worse than bad razor burn and a pulled muscle combined. Tell me that vanity may be painful. Then and only then would I expect the worse and understand what I'm walking into. Don't sugarcoat the truth.
Would I do this again? My answer today, NO.
My new worst enemy. I can admit that I feel completely deceived. Completely blindsided. Maybe it's just a momentary/minute amount of pain and suffering to be endured for the long haul. Maybe not.
See, the reality, the varicose veins of mine, weren't painful. Ugly, yes. Painful, no.
I could have never imagined the procedure or the aftermath of the brief procedure. My first recommendation for anyone considering treatment DO NOT SCHEDULE DURING THE SUMMER (and fortunately for me, I didn't - mere coincidence). Second suggestion, DO NOT PLAN ANYTHING FOR SEVERAL DAYS TO A WEEK AFTERWARD (unless of course you have like to walk around with a tight ace bandage on your leg and sport a stocking for the week after - again fortunately I'm Ok with nothing in the schedule and that I can wear pants!).
The procedure was very quick. As described in my written material, "Endovenous laser treatment is a minimally invasive option for treating the saphenous vein reflux (leaky valves). The first stage of your procedure will involve numbing the skin and then inserting a thin catheter (plastic tube fed up your diseased saphenous vein, (the superficial vein along the inside of your calf and/or thigh)."...More numbing..."The laser catheter is then slowly pulled back while delivering energy to the vein wall, causing it to heat, collapse and seal shut."
Long story short, the numbing process took the longest of the procedure, with the actual laser treatment lasting about 90 seconds. From the time I checked in at the desk to walking out, it was less than 25 minutes. I'm not a fan of needles, so I was fortunate that I couldn't see the IV, which the doctor claimed would be the most painful part. He lied.
Then when numbing the upper thigh, he informed me that I would feel a slight series of pokes. He lied again. I thought of RUR and his smile and pushed hard on my rib cage with each extreme jab that repetitively went into the thigh down to the knee. Poke my...! Maybe it was more painful for me due to the muscles in my thigh. Who knows, but it hurt.
Then there was the use of the laser. He warned that I may smell or taste something. MAY? He lied, yet again.
Smell or taste was the clearly under exaggerated! He did joke that it would only last a few weeks, which it did subside shortly after the laser treatment was complete. The smell...burning rubber.
The taste? I have never in my life smoked a cigarette. When I was young, I wanted to. I would sit in my mom's car when she ran into the store and push in the push lighter. I would burn her cigarettes that were in the ashtray. I would hold them in my hands. I would lift the partial cigarettes toward my lips, never coming closer than my chin. I couldn't do it. I wouldn't do it. I don't know why. Now, I despise the smell of cigarettes. I can't stand the smell of smoke lingering in my hair and my clothes and my being from going out on the town. I hate that I wreak of an ashtray after home calls of smokers. I'm glad that I've never tried a cigarette. So the taste you ask? Cigarette ashes.
I can't tell you how or why I know this. For those brief minutes of reality, which seemed like thousands of seconds of hell, in the back of my throat, I tasted cigarette ash. I felt like I was licking the ashes from an ashtray. It was disgusting and appalling and anything but surreal.
After the doctor was done, I was informed that I have to wear the ace bandage for five days. If it happens to fall off (maybe with some assistance of my own) in three or four days, that's OK. Then I have to wear my "chap stocking" for a week to prevent blood clots. Ibuprofen was recommended (400-600mg) for pain, especially since day 2-3 can be the most severe.
I used to think that I had a high pain tolerance. I was wrong. I've been popping ibuprofen like candy every 5-6 hours at 1000mg each. My upper thigh is beyond swollen and I feel like I'm a 500# sumo wrestler. The pain is more intense than the feeling of a "slight muscle pull" that I might feel.
If nothing else, I want the truth. I can handle it. But what I hate the most, deceit. Tell me that if I want to be varicose vein free it will hurt like hell for up to two weeks. Tell me that I'll taste cigarette ash for longer than I ever want to admit. Tell me that I can't workout for a week and showering will be a challenge. Tell me that I'll be in discomfort and that while I can work, I won't want to. Tell me that my inner thigh will feel worse than bad razor burn and a pulled muscle combined. Tell me that vanity may be painful. Then and only then would I expect the worse and understand what I'm walking into. Don't sugarcoat the truth.
Would I do this again? My answer today, NO.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Hunting Season
As most are more than well aware, November 15 is opening day of gun season. T's dad hunts, or attempts to hunt or finds solace with nature or away from civilization. Actually I don't know what he does, other than he leaves town and doesn't visit with T.
November is always a crazy and chaotic month for me. I know that I have chosen to be a single parent. Although, it wasn't really only my choice, it was a choice I made for all of us. For the well being of all of us. And honestly, it's been a fabulous one! I also chose to not live near my family and not have babysitters. My choice.
Nevertheless, the change in schedule to having my son 22 out of 30 days for the month of November is always a testing of my patience and my parenting. After twelve years, I've come to need the welcomed breaks of joint custody. While it wasn't anything I would have desired for my son, I do know that it's worked out best for him to have parents that are not together. Additionally, our time apart makes us healthier when we are together. I couldn't imagine it any other way. And before I know it, it will be December!
November is always a crazy and chaotic month for me. I know that I have chosen to be a single parent. Although, it wasn't really only my choice, it was a choice I made for all of us. For the well being of all of us. And honestly, it's been a fabulous one! I also chose to not live near my family and not have babysitters. My choice.
Nevertheless, the change in schedule to having my son 22 out of 30 days for the month of November is always a testing of my patience and my parenting. After twelve years, I've come to need the welcomed breaks of joint custody. While it wasn't anything I would have desired for my son, I do know that it's worked out best for him to have parents that are not together. Additionally, our time apart makes us healthier when we are together. I couldn't imagine it any other way. And before I know it, it will be December!
Parent-Teacher Conferences
It is again, that time of year. Parent. Teacher. Conferences.
My son, for those that aren't aware, is an excellent student. He is in advanced math. He has participated in the Gifted and Talented program for years. He is self sufficient, self reliant, independent and self motivated for starters.
Last night was his Parent-Teacher Conferences. Another fabulous opportunity to be in the same place at the same time with his dad. An hour of feeling the Great Divide, which was ever so apparent when sitting at the same table, not acknowledging each other with T sitting in between us giving sideways glances and smiles to me in our non-verbal ways.
I have been completely unaware of the work that T has been doing in his G/T class. Well actually in all of his classes. I see what he brings home. I review what he shares. I have no communication with his teachers. Neither he nor I require it. He is an amazing kid and has done great projects without any assistance. He uses Power Point. He uses the web and makes web blogs. He has been more technologically advanced than myself for years now. And, I'm completely OK with that. Completely.
His dad and I waited to speak with several teachers. We reviewed his report card of all A's and wondered who we should speak to. Speak to all of them? Speak to none of them? His dad and I confirmed that we really didn't need to be there. But parental obligations, we were. In my mind, I just wanted to skip it all and get to dinner with RUR, but even I managed to smile and be pleasant with teachers that said only four words. What does a teacher say when a parent has no questions, there are no problems and this student is getting 99.53%?
Funny thing though, T's worst class....Gym. We laughed when he told us he was getting a 97%, having missed two questions on the soccer test, when he played soccer this fall! So when we met with the teacher we said that we were surprised to hear that gym was his worst class. The teacher, scrambling through his papers was shocked. He couldn't believe that T wasn't getting an A. Oh he IS, it's just his lowest A yet, with the next lowest being 99.09%.
Too funny! Gym of all classes!
My son, for those that aren't aware, is an excellent student. He is in advanced math. He has participated in the Gifted and Talented program for years. He is self sufficient, self reliant, independent and self motivated for starters.
Last night was his Parent-Teacher Conferences. Another fabulous opportunity to be in the same place at the same time with his dad. An hour of feeling the Great Divide, which was ever so apparent when sitting at the same table, not acknowledging each other with T sitting in between us giving sideways glances and smiles to me in our non-verbal ways.
I have been completely unaware of the work that T has been doing in his G/T class. Well actually in all of his classes. I see what he brings home. I review what he shares. I have no communication with his teachers. Neither he nor I require it. He is an amazing kid and has done great projects without any assistance. He uses Power Point. He uses the web and makes web blogs. He has been more technologically advanced than myself for years now. And, I'm completely OK with that. Completely.
His dad and I waited to speak with several teachers. We reviewed his report card of all A's and wondered who we should speak to. Speak to all of them? Speak to none of them? His dad and I confirmed that we really didn't need to be there. But parental obligations, we were. In my mind, I just wanted to skip it all and get to dinner with RUR, but even I managed to smile and be pleasant with teachers that said only four words. What does a teacher say when a parent has no questions, there are no problems and this student is getting 99.53%?
Funny thing though, T's worst class....Gym. We laughed when he told us he was getting a 97%, having missed two questions on the soccer test, when he played soccer this fall! So when we met with the teacher we said that we were surprised to hear that gym was his worst class. The teacher, scrambling through his papers was shocked. He couldn't believe that T wasn't getting an A. Oh he IS, it's just his lowest A yet, with the next lowest being 99.09%.
Too funny! Gym of all classes!
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