Sunday, July 24, 2016

Context is everything

There's an old Jewish story about a man who has 12 children and a wife and they all live together in a tiny house.  The man goes to his rabbi and says "I can't take it anymore!  My house is too noisy and chaotic!  I'm going to have a nervous breakdown!  You have to help me!"

The rabbi asks the man if he has chickens.  The man says that of course he has chickens; he raises them for eggs and meat.  The rabbi tells him to bring the chickens inside the house to live with the family.  The man says "Really?  Are you sure?  Because we're already pretty crowded in there."  The rabbi says "Trust me".  So the man brings his chickens into the house.

The next week, the man goes back to the rabbi with the same complaint.  "My 12 kids make an enormous uproar, and now the chickens are squawking and pooping every where and the feathers are getting into everything.  It's much worse!"  The rabbi asks the man if he has a cow.  The man says yes, he keeps a cow for milk.  So the rabbi advises him to bring the cow into the house.

And so on and so forth, for several weeks, until the man is living with his in-laws, his neighbours, several dogs and cats, etc.  Finally, the rabbi tells him to kick everyone out of the house except for his wife and the 12 children.  The following week, the man goes back to the rabbi and says "Thank you so much!  My house is so quiet and peaceful now.  It's so roomy with only 14 of us living there, and so quiet without the animals.  How can I thank you?"

And that is how my sclerotherapy treatments are going.  I am at the stage where I have just brought all the stray dogs in the neighbourhood to move in, or, in non-symbolic language, my legs are covered in fresh bruises and bruises in various stages of aging and fading.  The spider veins that prompted me to seek treatment in the first place are all still present and accounted for.  The doctor keeps telling me that we have to work from the biggest "feeder" veins down towards the small ones, or the small ones will regenerate that much more quickly over time.

My legs look like they've taken a beating (they have) and I knew this would be the case.  I knew I would look worse before I looked better.   After four treatments, all I can find comfort in is that most of the bruises fade from dark purple to yucky yellow pretty quickly. My legs better look hecking fabulous when all this is over!


Vanessa T said...

Ha! I love that story!

Yes, context is everything, and soon your legs are going to be free from all those spidery veins and you will be so glad you toughed this out.

In the meantime, purple and yellow are 2 of my favorite colors, so ... think of it like artwork. In progress. Which it is, now that I think about it. :)

You're doing great, Spark!


Granny Annie said...

Bless your little pea pickin' heart my friend. I know the end results will have to be worth the effort.

Abby said...

Great story to accompany your thoughts! (And a nice perspective for me to read on a Monday morning). I look forward to the end of your chaos!

Gia said...

That's a great tale! Sorry your treatment is such a pain...hope you get to kick the animals out soon.

Lynn said...

I need to have that done, too - I'll be interested to hear how it goes. But great, I'll bet!

LL Cool Joe said...

Ha ha that story made me grin. I hope your legs look gorgeous soon. And photographic evidence to back it up. ;)

Snowbrush said...

It’s one of those cases when a person can but be glad she has the option of being treated. So much that medicine does to a person is horrible. I’m going to be having nerves burned inside my knee soon. I’ve oven had needles stuck deep inside my knee making me dizzy and faint when I get up to leave, and these needles will be a lot bigger.

I wish you luck with these treatments, dear. I really feel for you, and I’m proud of your courage and endurance because I know that it takes both to submit to things like this.

Jenny Woolf said...

I'm catching up on blogs and so by now I'm hoping you have seen some serious improvement.