Chronicles of Chaos

May 20, 2008 | Print

Varicose Veins and Tired Legs

A hair stylist once told me that every year in the early spring she goes to the dermatologist to get her legs ready for summer. She explained getting ready means cleaning up the little veins that look so bad.

At the time I was pregnant for the second time, while she’d yet to bear the two children she announced would arrive sometime in her near future (flown by stork). I knew that her little veins were nothing compared to mine.

I’ve let my veins progress on their own. After a friend went through some varicose vein issues in her third pregnancy, I did get a pair of support tights (much nicer word than hose) while lugging around Oliver (my third) those last few months. They came up to my hips and I rarely went through the struggle to put them on and the discomfort of wearing them.

I have one suspicious looking vein on the inside of my calf. As part of my post-pregnancy health and beauty maintenance (which for some reason includes the dermatologist and dentist but not a regular check up), I want the vein assessed. And also to discuss the exact process (pain levels, side effects, duration, expense, recovery, success rates) of getting my legs ready for summer.

The dermatologist answers me with a 10 page handout on saline and laser treatments. But before we think about doing anything, she says, eyeing the prize vein on my calf, go see this guy–the vascular surgeon.

So I go see the vascular surgeon. He’s impressive and surprisingly normal. He has the kind of information that I want to include in the book that I cannot believe does not yet exist–Answers to Post Pregnancy: Why is My Body Doing This and How Do I Make it Better? (Same format as Smart Medicine for a Healthier Child with description of condition, conventional and alternative treatments; topics include pelvic floor, depression, bladder, prolapse, hemmorroids/fissures, boob deflation, thyroid, vein issues, and so on).

I share with the vascular surgeon that my legs feel tired at the end of the day. Achy, and some days I wake up with them feeling that way. Also once when I had to carry Oliver around a roller rink for three hours at an over-crowded, stressful birthday party event, my leg hurt right by that vein.

The doctor listens thoughtfully. Then he tells me the following:

• My dermatologist is good–many dermatologists go ahead with saline treatments for superficial leg veins without determining the strength of veins in the whole area. Apparently veins have little flaps in them, when the flaps are weak they stay open allowing what I’ll call backwash for lack of medical expertise. That backflow leads to saline treatments not working.

He says for many people, it’s best to determine the backflow issue before spending time and expense on saline treatments.

• The backflow situation and varicose veins in general can be treated with a laser operation that is less painful and much less debilitating than the traditional vein stripping (a procedure I don’t discuss with him because for my detail oriented mind, I’m better off knowing less until circumstances will require me to endure it).

• Tired legs can easily be addressed by staying off my feet, putting my legs up whenever I’m sitting, and using support socks. He says his wife uses support socks and also tries to put her feet up more around her period as that’s when women are likely to have tired legs.

(I think it would be nice if the medical profession would disseminate this advice more widely–instead of feeling like we’re weak and tired, we would understand that these feelings are normal, biological events.)

• Obviously, he says, moms can’t stay off their feet, so wear the support socks.

• And then, he suggests a leg ultrasound to assess the strength of my veins and whether I need the less painful kind of vein surgery.

Three weeks later I go back for the ultrasound.

Another doctor does the ultrasound. We’re in a small exam room with the shades pulled down so he can see the screen. I have to stand up, and hold my breath when he tells me. He runs the ultrasound thing over my legs, we both watch the veins on the screen.

Other than turning colors every once in awhile, not exciting. I realize the period of pregnancy ultrasound highs has passed, the new objective is to find nothing.

The doctor mentions that some people get queasy looking at the screen. We laugh at his story about a 6′5″ man who said he was fine and then passed out. The doctor luckily caught him in time.

I suddenly feel like I’m going to throw up. The room feels too small, warm and dark. I sit down on the table. The doctor eyes me suspiciously.

I ask if I can sit down for the rest of the ultrasound. I must look green because he says yes. I don’t look at the screen anymore.

By the end we’ve found only one area with slight backwash. No need for surgery, and the outlook’s good for saline treatments. I’m so relieved about no surgery I don’t care about the little veins anymore.

Since I’ve lasted through three pregnancies, it’s possible that I may escape varicose. That said I’m tall (hard for the blood to travel so far), thin (one area where larger is better since it gives veins more coverage material) and it runs in my family, so the possibility exists.

I ask him about the tired legs.

He pulls up his pants to show me his stockings. Everyone in the office wears them, he tells me. You’ll love them. Wear them all day except when you exercise because then the blood’s pumping well making the added support unnecessary.

He measures my ankle and leg. At the checkout desk he leaves me a stack of support socks–athletic and dress up, both ugly.

I buy one of each and put them on in the car before leaving the parking lot. The tired leg thing is that uncomfortable.

That night my legs are still tired. The next night they are not. I love my support socks. The more I wear them, the less I remember my grandpa pulling navy blue ones over his saggy ankles.

Michael watches me put the socks on in the morning and keeps his mouth shut, except to ask–When it’s summer you’re not going to wear those with shorts, are you?

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