The last time I had a physical exam, my Doctor, poked my leg and said, “You have a Vascular Malformation. Doe’s it hurt?” I said, “It didn’t until you poked it.” He told me that I should show it to my Dermatologist. “She’ll zap it with a Laser.” I followed his advice and she said, “I don’t zap. This could cause a serious problem if it bursts. Does it hurt?” I replied, “No, unless a doctor pokes it.”
My Dermatologist then sent me to a Cardiologist who specializes in hearts and veins.
When she said he was a “vein” Doctor, I thought, “He must be full of himself,” but it wasn’t that kind of vain.
The Ultrasound Technician told me I had a “Venus Cluster.” It sounded so beautiful. I said,” If a man has one, do you call it a Mars Cluster?” He said, “It’s not that kind of Venus.” I still like my Venus better than his Venous. Then, I met with the Doctor (who wasn’t full of himself) and scheduled my surgery.
The receptionist said, “There’s a cancellation in two days. Do you want it?” Of course, I wanted it. Who wouldn’t want to avoid more Venous poking? The receptionist then told me to get to the surgical office thirty minutes early, if I wanted to take a Valium. I said, “I don’t take that stuff! I am loopy enough on my own.”
I arrived on time and took the elevator to the second floor, and was taken in for the procedure. the Ultra sounder, the Doctor and two nurses were ready for me. First the Doctor and the Ultra sounder traced the veins in my legs to see which ones led to the Cluster. Of course, being me, my veins went every which way and more so. Finally, they found a good path.
The Doctor kind of deadened the area when he inserted the needle, but no one warned me that he was going to set my leg on fire. I jerked and almost kicked his face. He shouted, “Don’t move. You might dislodge the needle.” I froze in place. Everyone seemed so pleased when he was finished—especially me! He said, “It’s working. See, the cluster is turning pink.” Then, of course, he poked it, and said, “It’s getting soft.” Suddenly, pink became my favorite color.
After he left, the nurse put a long support stocking up my leg, and then wrapped tape around a hard boomerang she had placed above my knee for added compression. I was instructed to keep it there for 48 hours. I was given directions not to lift anything over 15 pounds, so I won’t buy two gallons of milk and a box of cookies anytime soon. Also, I was not to exercise or walk up and down hills for two weeks. However, I was encouraged to walk for 30 minutes a day. Heavy duty Ibuprofen became my best friend.
The first night I wrestled with a pillow trying to put it under my leg. I lost the pillow when it fell on the floor, and then I couldn’t find my leg.
Seven more days and I can remove the compression stocking. I hope that the next time I see the Doctor, he won’t poke around and find Jupiter.
Esther Blumenfeld