Meet Layla — my gaggle of varicose veins, Part one
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Every day I turn to the internet for advice. Google is like a cyber version of Dear Abby.
Side note: Preferring Dear Abby over Ann Landers — or vice versa — is like debating Kraft Mayonnaise vs. Hellmann’s, Coke vs. Pepsi, Colgate vs. Crest, chocolate vs. vanilla, high tops vs. low tops and on and on. We truly could spend hours on this. Man that would make a fun rotating feature, wouldn’t it?
But this really has nothing to do with my varicose veins. That’s why it’s a side note; while mildly interesting it is not germane to the topic.
Note to
my
fellow citizens:
I am not
a sideshow
freak. They’re just
varicose veins.
What I was looking for, via Dear Google, was a first-hand account of the VNUS Closure Procedure. All I found were some testimonials about how fantastic it is but I wanted to read a detailed, personal account.
So that’s why I am providing today’s Public Service Announcement. I’m going to have to write this in two parts since I’m currently in the anxiety-riddled wait-for-the-procedure stage. Yay!
As you may have guessed, I have a collection of gnarly varicose veins on my inner left calf. Those veins have been with me for almost 30 years so I have named them Layla. And Layla is a bit like Glenn Close in that she will not be ignored.
Every time she sees the light of day people inquire about her. She’s a bit of a train wreck and she makes people talk. All sense of diplomacy disappears and the person closest to me simply blurts out, “What’s wrong with your leg?”
So I reply, “That’s just my bitch Layla. She called shotgun 30 years ago and she’s been with me ever since. By the way, thanks for stopping all of the conversation around me so everyone can gape at the hideous bumps on my calf. It’s been a pleasure.”
That’s what I want to say.
What I actually say is, “Those are varicose veins.” I get so pissed off when people just point and stare. Effing A, man. I am not a sideshow freak.
Here’s the back story. My dad’s brother had crazy varicose veins that were stripped from his legs 40 years ago so it’s my dad’s fault that I have them. My relationship with my father is, how you say, estranged. He’s an abusive control freak; I’m not surprised that the genetic component to this comes from his side of the family.
When I was 13 I sprouted the first varicose vein just below my left knee on my inner calf. As time went on they multiplied and spread toward my ankle. They’ve become much larger, they’re discolored and they’re starting to feel tender. They’re awesome!
The fact that I’m a chick, I’ve had three pregnancies and I have been running on and off for 23 years has only made matters worse. So finally I am having them taken care of (lifts her hand to mime a pistol, places the barrel on her temple and shoots, Godfather-style.)
I’m supposed to take 10 mg of Valium an hour before the procedure and I have to bring the third pill with me to the office so the doctor can decide if I need to take it.
Prediction: I’m gonna need to take that third pill and I’ll have to concentrate on doing some deep breathing exercises when she makes the first incision.
Here’s a short video of what’s gonna happen a week from next Tuesday. She’s going to put a catheter in the vein next to my knee and then thread that sucker all the way up to my groin — home of the leaky saphenous vein — and burn it shut.
I was surprised the problem was in my groin since the varicose veins are below my knee, but she said the source of the problem is up there in the saphenous vein. The vein should be 2 mm wide and mine is 10.6 mm. She also showed me, via ultrasound, how it leaks.
She turned the screen toward me, told me to take a deep breath, hold it and bear down. The image on the screen should have been black. Mine was filled with red, yellow and blue which showed the blood rushing out of the leaking vein to pool in the veins of my calf.
She also said this procedure is almost painless. The only thing that hurts are three shots. The first needle will go in above my knee to thread the catheter in. Once it’s up there (she says it’s painless) they’re going to give me a shot of lidocaine above and below that vein in my groin so I don’t feel the searing pain of it being burned shut.
Yes. I’m nervous. That’s why I scored a prescription for three Valiums instead of the standard prescription for two. (Smiles and nods.) After it’s done I get to wear some medical-grade compression pantyhose for a month. They’re tight, she said, so they come with a pair of gloves with rubber grippers on the fingertips to allow you to pull them up to your waist.
I have to wear those non-stop — except to use the restroom — for two days. I cannot take them off until I go back for the check up. For the following 28 days I will be allowed to take them off for up to one hour each day (to shower.) Gotta sleep in them, too.
Thank God for health insurance because each pair costs $110. I bought two pairs.
Oh yeah, I can’t exercise for a month and I have to return a few times during the month for checkups.
Part Two will detail the Valium, the 120°F catheter and Compression-palooza 2010.
Tags: Things that make me anxious, Things that make me cringe
I might be wrong, but I think that there aren’t many pain receptors inside veins. There wouldn’t be much point having any in there, kinda like how there’s none inside the brain.
Good luck with the surgery. It’s pretty common these days.
No, I think you’re actually right, Solomon. She said something like that; I think the pain medicine is for the surrounding muscle. I don’t remember but I know she said something about not much pain.
But I’ll be the judge of that.
I just want to know what those compression hose are like. I know you wear something similar after plastic surgery.
Good luck, CG. I know you’ll get through the whole day like a champ. I’m so glad you’re doing this for yourself. I hate it when people say you deserve something, but you totally do.
And Valium? Bor-ing. Didn’t you tell the guy you preferred Ativan?
When she first said it, I said, “Like Spanx, right?” And she said, “Sort of.”
I was wondering if I should have some Ativan “on board” as they say. I really am jazzed about *finally* getting rid of these things. Yes, it’s mostly for looks, but they are starting to feel a bit heavy — unlike my right leg.
I can’t wait for the day after.
I think these things make Spanx look comfortable and breezy.
It never hurts to at least have it on hand. I keep a bottle of benzos in my purse.
I’m actually dying to try a pair of Spanx now that I know what these things feel like. They’re not too bad, actually although I have a bit o’ a muffin top now and that ain’t cool.
So sorry you’re going to have to undergo this procedure and kudos to you for getting extra pain pills. It sux that they don’t hand those out like candy any more. I know if it were me I’d be taking extra Ativan until the procedure. In fact, I think I may take an extra one after viewing the video. Lol!.
Sending prayers and positive energy to you and hoping that the procedure is as painless as they say. Let us know what day you’re having the procedure.
Yeah, then we can rob your house. ;)
Hey, Lola–I know where we can find a “Get Well Goose” to put on her front porch!
I know where we can find one too. Then she can have a pair of geese to wish her well in her recovery.
@Lola I’m sort of wondering if I shouldn’t have watched the video first. It’s one thing to have someone tell you about and another to see it. No chance I’ll be looking at it while it’s happening in real time, but I know I’d be curious to see what she was actually doing.
@Lin If you promise to steal the dirty dishes and the laundry I’ll tell you what day it is :) (psst. Oct. 19)
just tell me, should i worry now or later. okay i’m nervous for you, that’s just the way i am. cannot help it. if that link is to a video, yep it is, i cannot watch, i’m already two breaths away from passing out as it is just reading this. you have a nice day, merry christmas and wake me when it’s over. i’ll be in the waiting room pacing the floor.
um who the heck are these people putting you on broadway about your leg? that is F’ing rude man. ADULTS? what the heck do they think is wrong with your leg? i’m too much of a smart arse for people to ask me dumb shet like that. i won’t even go there, i’m just going to roll my eyes and walk the other way.
the procedure is almost painless, eh? i don’t like needles but i take them like a champ, except for in the mouth, i usually ask for an overdose for my overdose of drugs.
so we’ll be thinking of you a week from tuesday in the lounge. not to worry, we’ll keep the place popping with music, drinks and games of scrabble and trivial pursuit while we wait for you to return.
p.s.
O–>–<
oh yeah to your oh yeah
“Oh yeah, I can’t exercise for a month and I have to return a few times during the month for checkups.”
say what now?
man, cg. that’s tough girlfriend. i imagine you could work your upper body, but pooh. i’m sorry.
Since I have worrying now covered, I’ll have you worry later. Uh, yeah. Adults who *should* know better. It is mind boggling that people cannot keep their traps shut.
Kids get an automatic pass because they’re kids and they probably have never seen that before. But adults should get a swift kick in the ass.
I love that stick man flat on his back. Hey! That’s gonna be me before, during and after!
Yes. Yes it will suck but I do understand (seriously) that I can really mess this thing up if I start exercising too early. When she said “Clots that could travel to your lungs” I said, “No exercise for me.”
She did say I could do upper body after two weeks. She also said no more running for me. And as you know, my knees really cannot take it, so this is just the final answer to running for me.
My glory days are over.
Okay, so that sucks about the sausage casing and that you can’t work out–but think how wonderful it is gonna be without that bad boy!!! Hooray! My mom has some and she says they hurt like hell. Glad you are getting it done, pally.
It is going to be fantastic and I am seriously jacked about the outcome. She said after the procedure the veins in my calf will shrink considerably but then I’ll have injections to make those suckers. Dis. A. Pear! Gone. Poof. Like it never happened.
I really cannot tell you how thrilled I am at the thought of a smooth leg. I really have been waiting to do this for a very long time.
Sorry, but now I’ve got Eric Clapton on the brain, but the words are messed up:
“Laaaaaaaaaylaaa, me got you on my knees…”
Good luck with THE PROCEDURE (dum dum duuuuuhhm)
Awesome! I love Eric and I’m sure this was a subconscious nod to Slowhand. Really I cannot think the word, “Layla” without hearing him sing it.
During every moment of every day, somewhere in the world, somebody is listening to the last four minutes of Eric Clapton’s “Layla”. That’s just the way it is.
Yes. That *is* the way it is.
First of all, I love that you named your varicose veins. But then I read the words “burn,” “groin” and “catheter” and my mind shut down out of fear and I had to go to my happy place. That being said, good luck on the procedure!
She’s been with me for so long, I think she actually deserves a name, you know? This is like evicting her ass — I have to send the Repo Man to take back what’s mine.
It’s funny, but I’m not sure *which* word terrifies me most. It’s a toss up between groin and catheter, I think. But burn is right in there, too.
It’s groin. I’ve thought about it and groin is the most disturbing word of the three. Final answer.
CG — if this is any comfort (and it probably isn’t) just think of all your cyber friends who will be mentally holding your hand while your undergoing this procedure (and sending you good, happy, peaceful, hope the pills keep you relaxed thoughts).
Now to the hose, hmmmmmm the all day/night wear doesn’t sound too pleasant, but hey, maybe if I had those on, I could get into a couple of old jeans that I can’t seem to get rid of (you know, just in case I lose a hundred lbs or so)! You may have to care flight those to me when you’re done with them ;)
Wishing you much calmness through the procedure and excellent results!
It does make me feel better knowing that everybody will be thinkin’ of me. At the moment I’m not super freaked out. But I know I’ll start to worry next weekend when it’s much closer.
I do wonder if my pants will fit better when I’m wearing the compression hose — ala Spanx. You know I’ll tell you about it.
Great — if they help (getting a better fit) — then I call dubs when you get tired of them!
Keep us posted!
They do improve my silhouette. And they’re *yours* after I launder them.
Yikes – for me, I’m wondering how in the world I would deal with the anxiety this procedure would create in me?????? I had to read this aloud to my husband, so we could both digest how much I have been spared.
For you, I shuddered at the point where you revealed you cannot exercise for a month. To me, that would be a “go directly to GO card in Monopoly” – yippee, banned from hellish exercise for a month. But, as I reminded hubby, “you’re CARDIOGIRL, for goodness sakes. How does someone with exercise as part of her persona survive a month without her identifying characteristic???”
Shall we call you Non-CG from Oct. 19 to Nov 19??? Cardiolessgirl?? Cardiodeprivedgirl? Not to be confused with CardioDEPRAVEDgirl!
From now through November I will be deep in prayer – for you to get through this with flying colors (whatever that means) and deep thanks that I am merely watching on the sidelines!
PS – Will you title the follow-up post “Bidding Layla Adieu”? (Good thing I looked that spelling up, or I might have used “adeux” which means “intimate,” something you two have been for far too long.)
I. KNOW!
I did question the doctor extensively about that and she finally said, “It sounds like you exercise more than you’re letting on.” (I kept throwing out different scenarios — what if I just do lunges? What about less weight on the leg press? Sit ups?)
“I think you should stop exercising for a month.”
Oh.
I think I shall go with NonCardiogirl for that month (begins weeping.)
Oh yeah. There will most definitely be a follow-up. There are going to be a few follow ups since I have to keep going back for a while.
Phase Two — after the full month — includes sclerotherapy. She’ll give me injections directly into the veins in my calf to make them disappear.
Com. Plete. Ly!
Those veins will go down a lot in that first month but because they’re so old they will probably still leave a few bumps. But not after my doctor gets to them.
I would try to score more valium if you could. But look at the bright side, for the month you have to wear the compression hose…you will be slimming stylish!
I actually cannot wait to try those on just to see how my pants fit! We have a wedding to go to the weekend before and I’m thinking about wearing them under my dress to help my, uh, profile.
It sounds like this bothered you for a while, so good for you for having the procedure.
No exercise for a month to you is like no oxygen for a month to me. Don’t worry, though, we’ll get you through it ;)
Yes, it *is* like no oxygen. I do realize exercising is going to mess up my leg and I truly need to follow the directions.
I’m trying to focus on the long term, but in the short term I’m really going to miss it.
Hey, I’m glad you have the courage to do this. The video didn’t make it seem horrible, but where the needle thingy goes in…eeewww. Good thing for the valium. I would definitely need all three.
I’ve had my eyes lasered for narrow angle glaucoma, so I understand nervous quite well. I didn’t have any valium. Probably can’t have drugs like that when they work on your eyes – something about needing to be alert and stay completely still. They did have some good numbing drops.
Good luck! It’ll be over in no time.
AUUUGGHHH! On the eyes. The thing that gets me through difficult procedures is closing my eyes.
That’s why I will never have lasik surgery. My prescription is very strong in my glasses but I will always, always wear glasses because I cannot handle the thought of seeing the laser/knife/torture device/what have you come at my eye.
Good for you, kickin’ Layla to the curb. It sounds to me like the compression hose might be the worst part of the whole thing. I had to wear compression stockings while I was in the hospital after my surgery, and I *hated* them. I’m anti-socks, so wearing those things was just torture.
Ohhhh. I didn’t even think of that being an issue. Well, the main issue is the first two days of not being able to take them off since that means something else will not be removed (cringes.)
But I love wearing socks and wear them all the time, with the exception of the shower. So maybe it won’t be that much of a problem.
Good for you! I’m sure you’ll get through everything just fine. Plan something tiring and engaging for the night before your surgery. That way, you will be forced to keep your mind off it and then hopefully be tired enough to sleep.
I should do a marathon workout the night before. It will tire me out mentally as well and I should sleep like a rock. Good idea, Buf!
HOLY HAT! Wow what a procedure!!!! I get scared before crazy things like that – it is natural! You don’t know what to expect and it is scary!!! The weirdest thing I had done was getting botox in my stomach. It is for gastroparesis. They put a tube down your throat and inject several points of the inside of your stomach with botox – near the bottom. This smooths the skin and enables food to kind of “slide down” instead of sitting there causing pain and sickness. It didn’t work for me… but the procedure wasn’t bad b/c it was conscious sedation – I don’t remember it. I bet with Valium you won’t even know what is going on, or care. Ask for the blankets afterward that are from the blanket heater. That was the best part of the thing I had done – WARM BLANKETS!
Oh God. Botox INSIDE your stomach?! Naturally I assumed it was botox outside your stomach, like under your belly button on the OUTSIDE.
I am actually feeling phantom needles in my throat which makes no sense, since you said it was in the bottom of your stomach, but ouch.
Damn, compared this is going to be a breeze. I am seriously going to think of you and your stomach while I am having this done.
Oooohhhh… I wish the very best. I hope it is no more painful than a mosquito bite.
And please tell us how it went. I, too, am plagued by the same problem and will probably have to do this eventually. Hubby has one near his knee that looks like a small purple lightbulb in there. I’m always worried he is going to die from exploding vein.
Oh you can count on many follow-up reports, missy.
I’ll be rooting for you, and hoping for the best possible outcome. For many years, I’ve been dealing with an embarrassing hypertrophic scar on my chest. It’s not the worst thing in the world, but it’s a cosmetic blemish that prevents me from wearing a lot of open-collared shirts. That’s not to say that I entirely understand your situation, but I can appreciate your motivations for wanting to move ahead with the procedure. Good luck!
Thanks KZ! I think you have a pretty good idea of what it’s like.
It’s annoying and it does make me a bit self-conscious; I do tend to sit with my right leg crossed over my left so it’s not on display. I also felt for a really long time that it would be considered cosmetic surgery and would not be covered under insurance.
I did ask her about that — will she have to fudge the diagnosis code — and she gave me a solid no. No fudging. These are grade four — grade one and two being mostly cosmetic, grade three and four requiring medical attention.
Woo-hoo; bring on the catheter!
I’m on my third year of having my thread veins injected to get rid of them. (100 injections per session) I haven’t worn a short skirt since I was a teenager.
It’s interesting that we both exercise regularly and still have problems. The process sounds ‘gory’ but the results will be worth it. I’ll be thinking of you.
Day-um Anji. Does that hurt? I know they told me my insurance will cover up to 30 injections per session after the initial procedure. And as you probably know, I have my eyes on the prize.
I really cannot wait to see those suckers disappear.
I was pre-med for a time, so I am not that squeamish, but GOD do I hate looking/reading/etc about varicose veins. I got through the first paragraph and then I had to stop. I can’t even look at mine because of thinking of the methods of getting them removed!!
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKK!!
(laughs) Some of them are supah gnarly, aren’t they? I always feel like mine are too bad compared to some of the knots I’ve seen elsewhere. I do plan on taking some before and after pics.
I’ll let you know when those are coming so you can look away :)
The injections themselves don’t hurt, the product burns a little. Inner knees being the most sensitive and my left leg is braver than my right! My doctor told me that fair skinned people are more sensitive.
She uses aetoxisclerol 2%.
I wondered what was in there. I’ll be asking what my doc is going to use because I’m a curious gal. Huh, I’m fair-skinned, too. I wonder what it will feel like.
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