Today, after a weekend of salty treats, standing for long periods of time, and entering my 36th week of pregnancy — my ankles started to look a little, well, thick. Luckily, I still had some crazily tight compression hose stuffed in my underwear drawer from my last pregnancy. I got the hose at the hospital when I delivered Ollie because I had such issues with swelling in my legs (apparently being on an IV for 30+ hours will do that to ya!). In fact, I remember after the surgery, my doctor came in to ask me how I was feeling and my only question for him was, “WHERE ARE MY KNEES????”
Even more than the incision pain, discomfort of having my abdomen sliced open, or fact that I was starving from only consuming ice chips for hours on end — all that was nothing compared to the horror of seeing my legs look like 1000-year-old Redwoods. Literally, to look at them, you’d have though someone stole my bones and replaced them with marshmallow; there was no hint of knee or ankle whatsoever. I wasn’t pleading for morphine post-op, I was begging the doctors to order me surgical grade pantyhose from the pharmacy STAT.
Not that my legs or ankles even remotely resembled this today, but I think to some degree, I almost suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from my labor and delivery cankle experience. Now, at the first sign of swelling, I elevate my legs, ice them down, or like today, bust out the compression hose. Thankfully, my bones have returned and all signs of elephantiasis are at bay. Whew.