weathervein

you can never really imagine how much time you actually spend sitting on your ass until you need to be aware of such things.

mi-clot-ski, as my co-workers lovingly call me, needs to get up and walk around every 2 hours.

that means, no more sitting for a whole afternoon while in the zone, plugging away at work-stuff. no more long car trips which really sucks because i live in the 'burbs where places of interest are at least an hour away. rest stops will need to be more frequent and i guess i will actually allow myself to drink water while on a car trip. (my camel-like tendencies are needed to counterbalance what has to be the world's smallest bladder.)

but even all of this can be accepted easier than my vascular systems latest trick -- i am the human weathervane.

this newest thing to plague my body is a direct result of the blood clot i suffered through this summer. the veins in my legs -- both the healthy one and the bad one now have this roaring, flushed feeling whenever a change in the atmospheric pressure indicates a storm is approaching.

to describe the feeling, i need to take you out back -- not to outback, as in the steakhouse, that would be against my vegetarians beliefs -- but out back to the yard, where the garden hose is kept. when the water is running through the hose, if you squeeze the hose, you feel the water pressure change inside. going back to basic science class, if you increase the pressure on the outside of the hose, the pressure inside the increases as well causing the water to move quicker and more forcefully.

this is what is happening inside my legs. those little purple spider veins look darker and more pronounced. the larger blue ones, which i swear are the beginnings of varicose veins, come to the skin's surface to wave hi. say hello. be neighborly.

it is the throbbing that accompanies all of these physical changes that pains me. i knew i would never win a beauty pageant based on my thunder thighs and big, manly calves.

it starts slowly enough with a itchiness, like the feeling of you get when you use bar soap that dries out your skin. only this itchiness is internal and no matter how much rubbing or touching of your legs can you satisfy that urge.

as the itchiness subsides, the twinges begin. little bursts of "why hello there, legs. i had forgotten all about you, hadn't i?" remind me to pack an umbrella. once we enter this stage of the hose being stepped on randomly without warning, with proper care the twinges can be managed. frequent walks to nowhere, propping of the legs, increased water consumption can help ease their transition. why water? not sure exactly, but it keeps me getting up to go to the 'loo.

but what if you can't prop your legs up somewhere? say you're in a meeting? or driving? what happens next you ask?

you bend over and take it deep. for the team, of course.

if you can't remedy the twinges, you get the full-on, run-a-marathon-without-training, deep aches. at this point, you would prefer to actually have run the miles so you at least you could say you had gotten some exercise.

the only thing you can do in this phase is move to the nearest sofa, sprawl out and self-medicate with a glass of wine. or two. and wait for the storm to pass.