Once upon a time there was a Barbie.
And this Barbie led a pretty swell life. Especially swollen was her lower left leg due to varicosities which fed off the faulty valves of her bum greater saphenous vein, running from groin to ankle.
Varicose veins are not about being vain as much as they are about pain, given the fact the bundles of ineffectual fleshy veins tend to cluster in uncomfortable locations where one has to manage unimportant things, such as bending the knee.
Eight years ago, Varicose Barbie had an O.R. procedure known as vein stripping, which called for the surgical removal of her greater saphenous vein in the right leg — but since then the issue came calling in her other leg, and just in time for a less invasive procedure, known as Saphenous Vein Ablation.
When selecting her vascular surgeon, Varicose Barbie went directly to the top of the heap. She selected the guy who is head of his department and before that head of Harvard Medical School and before that head of the universe.
Which is why Varicose Barbie was particularly delighted to discover the person actually performing her procedure was just a medical student:
But in no time at all, where no time equals the underestimation of local anesthetic application followed by the awkward threading of catheter through vein and an unfortunate hitting of nerve, the procedure was complete and Varicose Barbie was told to apply a compression stocking to prevent blood from finding this greater saphenous vein until such time as it becomes fully collapsed.
Fast forward through one wrestling of the compression stocking alligator, and there was Varicose Barbie, every inch of her leg covered by the black stocking — which cost in dollars a number proportionate to the number of days Bossy lost from her life trying to apply this instrument of torture.
Exhausted and sore, Varicose Barbie found herself at home, with her stockinged leg elevated, watching cable:
And all was fine, until Varicose Barbie tucked herself in bed for the night:
Because it was in her bed that Varicose Barbie’s heel and Achilles tendon filled with fluid which resulted in a white hot ache very similar to the gunshot wound Varicose Barbie spent her life avoiding.
Another day passed thus, and finally Varicose Barbie decided to phone her surgeon’s office:
And her surgeon’s office was extremely accommodating, where accommodating equals they told her to take two Motrin and call on Monday. Also, it was only Thursday.
Luckily the next day Varicose Barbie’s father recommended she remove her compression stocking for a few hours and elevate her leg above her heart, allowing the excess fluid to drain. Varicose Barbie was only too happy to comply, especially the part about removal of her Oppression Stocking. Fluid drainage, not so much.
This unrestricted time passed all too quickly for Varicose Barbie, and unfortunately it was time for the reapplication of her Suppression Stocking. And then the sad and exhausted Varicose Barbie found herself in the bathroom mirror, readying herself for an ill-timed dance party at her friend Martha’s house:
But once at this party, a strange thing happened: Varicose Barbie felt better for the first time in days! And Varicose Barbie ate and drank and danced into the wee hours of the night!