Not that I don’t shave at all when the weather gets cold, but the occurrences of such activity are a little more spaced out. They are eons apart when I’m pregnant. I figure since I can’t see my legs, others probably can’t either. Right?
Tuesday, 3:30am and my left leg is hurting. I had had a recent conversation with my OB about blood clots because of some burning in my calf. He said if the burning and pain went away in a few minutes “You’re ok. If it lasts for 8 hours, call me.”
So at 3:30am, I note the time and go back to sleep. I wake up in the morning with my leg hurting which reminds me about the 3:30am wake-up.
At 11:30am, my leg is still hurting inside, and I call the nurses’ line and leave them a voicemail message. I let them know that I want to know what else to look for or be aware of.
Meanwhile, I am dying.
So, I email Kristen and ask her advice. We exchange a few instant emails and determine it’s probably nothing, but I should get checked in case I’m dying.
A nurse from the doctor’s office calls. I expect her to just let me know some stuff to look for. Instead, she says “You’re dying!” Well, her exact words were “We want you to go to the hospital today and have the Doplar look at your leg.” (To check the 10-day weather report?)
Oh- you mean you don’t want to tell me “it’s probably nothing, but call us back if you see this, this, and that.” That is news to me that is less than goodish.
So, we set an appointment for that day and aloud I realize, “I’m going to have to shave, aren’t I?”
The nurse pauses. “Shave?” And then she chuckles.
I put my daughter down for a nap and sit on the edge of my bathtub to mow my legs. I wish I had just shaved them the night before during my shower, but I can't really see them anymore and bending over is a pain. I work fast because I have to leave soon. I think I did ok, until I rinse off and feel a familiar sting. I have cut myself, right on the spot that is the center of my leg pain.
Typically, when I go to a doctor's office, I get a sort of stage fright. I often forget where my pain is or what my ailment is which is why David gets on my case about writing things down for the doctor. This time, I write nothing down; I have a handy landmark. If I forget where the pain is, I’ll just point to the knife wound and say, "Here. Hurt."
So, Dave’s driving me to the hospital when I realize the skin on my leg is burning. But not the hot "blood clot" burning. The hot "razor burn" kind of burning. Right over the ENTIRE area where my leg pain is contained. I guess I didn't use enough shaving gel when I frantically swung the machete through the briar. So, of course, I already know how things are going to go in the radiologist’s office.
Radiologist: Where is the pain?
Me: Hurt. Here.
Radiologist: Oh. I see what your problem is.
Me: Am I dying?
Radiologist: You have a stab wound, surrounded by claw marks from a raccoon.
I swear sometimes it’s like I’m clairvoyant or something.
I finally get to the dimly-lit room that is the radiologist's office, sans pants, with Radio Chick running a wand down my leg. She makes no mention of the stab wound or the raccoon marks. After scowling at the screen for a while and re-checking my leg, she says, “you’re dying.” I ask her to repeat herself and she says, “Everything looks good. There is no blood clot. You’re free to go!”
I am immediately aware that I no longer have the pain in my leg I had been experiencing for 12 hours. I apparently only needed to lie down with my legs in the figure 4 and have someone wave a wand over me. (Duh.) Most of the damage to my leg now is the cut and the large razor burn on my thigh.
And that’s how I narrowly escaped death.
And why you should shave your legs, even in the winter.