Support Me

I'm just a big fat pregnant lady. I hit 4 months today, which was exciting. However, last night when I got home from work and got out of my car, I noticed a bizarre pain in my leg. I reached down to touch it and immediately realized it was one of my puffy varicose veins. Nasty. I walk into our apartment and check it out. It's red, bulging, tender and looks gnarly. I'm now scared to even sit down because I'm thinking it's a giant blood clot about to work its way to my lungs or brain and I'm minutes away from death. I imagine Jeff coming home to find me slumped over the iPad researching varicose veins, and think that I should immediately pull that up on Google so that if my demise does happen, some smart detective work would lead to my clue about what caused my death, potentially obviating the need for a major autopsy.

I then do the next best thing and call Ashley, my dear good friend who is preggers with her second baby and is also an ICU nurse. She asks me lots of questions and says that while she doesn't think it's a clot, I should probably call my nurse in the morning if it still hurts. I feel comfortable with that plan.

We go to bed that night, after me showing my poor husband the gnarl nastiness on my leg and him giving me a very unsympathetic grossed out look in response, and I wake up to pee and can barely walk. Crud. I'm now adamant that a blood clot is forming and that I'll either pass during the night or lose my leg. My sleep was pretty restless.

I get up in the morning, limp to the bathroom to get ready, and finally make it to work where I email my nurse. My phone rings about 10 minutes later so I immediately know it's not good. She says I should come in right away and can I be at the office in 30 minutes? Of course. I go, and I text with Ashley in the waiting room. She now decides it's a good time to tell me that "it doesn't sound normal" and that it could very well be a clot. She says she was trying to think best-case scenario last night. Hmph.

The doc on-call comes in to check out my gnarled leg. He points out the obvious: I have a trail of varicose veins running from my thigh down my calf on my right leg. Yeppers. Thanks genetics. Then he says the good news and gives me my diagnosis: Superficial varicose veins. I'm not at risk for a blood clot because the vein in question is not one of my major veins. Yippee!

Then he gives me the really awesome news about my treatment: 1) Elevation; 2) Heating pad; and 3) SUPPORT HOSE. 

I'm going to try to find these in thigh-high

 Dang.

He admits they're "unsightly," but says they should really help and offers to give me a prescription for some seriously intense compression stockings. The words just make me cringe.

Then he really tries to make my day and says, "Do you want to hear your baby?" Yes!!! We listen to the heartbeat and hear the pretty 152 beats per minute. Fine. I'll wear the stockings.

So, we live in Texas and I'm about to go in search for some hot-for-all-the-wrong-reasons thigh-highs to wear every day until July.

Yours truly,
Hottest prego chick in Dallas