About a year ago, I was diagnosed as having venous reflux, a condition where the valves in the veins in my legs don't close all the way, letting blood returning from my feet flow backward. This makes my feet and calves swell from the poor circulation. I went to the specialist for the ultrasound evaluation, where they did a comprehensive scan of my lower legs. A treatment plan was recommended, but it turned out my insurance didn't cover the procedure. I was going to turn 65 the following May. "That's good news," the doctor told me. "Medicare will cover it, even though most private insurance won't. You can put it off without causing yourself any harm."
OK, that works for me. The following June, I went back for a rescan, since they wanted to make sure everything was more or less the same as the original exam. The techs doing the scan were friendly enough, but not all that congenial, and all business, which I expected. They did their process, and the APRN who evaluates the scans came in and explained what they planned to do, and how the process would work. It was a fairly straightforward procedure. The tech, an APRN, would inject a foam like substance into one of the outer veins in each leg, which would essentially close it off by turning it to a kind of gel. The second visit would be an ultrasound to make sure everything went as planned, and there were no clots. The third visit would tie up all the smaller veins attached to the main one. My left leg would be done first, then, a week later, the right. The process was set in motion, and my first round would be the following week.
The following Monday, I arrived at the vein center's office, and was ushered back into an exam room. I was handed a pair of loose fitting shorts made of some nylon type synthetic material, to wear while the procedure was being done. I let the techs know I was ready, and in they came: the APRN doing the injections, a couple of techs to read the computer screens while the injection was taking place, another tech to assist and hand the APRN whatever she asked for, another to tap my leg while I was being injected. Everyone but the lady with the alligator purse....They got started, numbed me up, and got going on the injection. While this was going on, another nurse came in, introducing herself as Crystal. Her function seemed to be to observe the proceedings, as she didn't participate, mostly just watched, and checked on what the others were doing.
Crystal was a bit older than the rest of the crew, probably 50-ish, I guessed, where the others were mostly late 20's/early 30's. She was slender, with shoulder length dirty blonde hair framing a pretty face. She asked how I was doing, and I told her I was enjoying every minute, couldn't remember when I had so much fun. I asked her where the lady with the alligator purse was, there were so many people in the small room. It was reminding me of the state room scene from the Marx Brothers "A Night at the Opera." She laughed, a big smile coming over her face, while the rest of the crew in the room looked confused. We had to explain both things, but it seemed to quickly solidify a connection between Crystal and me. We spent a good part of the process engaged in light banter, and I teased and joked with the rest of the crew, as well.
The APRN completed the procedure, and the crew cleaned me up and went on to their next patient. Crystal lingered a moment as we talked about local restaurants, and the tech who had been tapping my leg helped me on with the $62 thigh to ankle compression stocking I'd have to wear for the next two weeks. He finished, and Crystal walked me out. Our eyes met as I opened the door.
"See you tomorrow," she said, her eyes, an enticing shade of blue-gray, fixed on mine.
"I wouldn't miss it," I kidded her, and I was off.
The next day I came in for my ultrasound, which went quickly, as they didn't find anything amiss. I saw Crystal only in passing, she was in another exam room as I was leaving. She gave me a quick wave and a smile, but it was clear she was occupied, and I didn't linger.
My next visit was a week out. Normally, they'd do each leg three days in a row, but I had a schedule conflict, and had to move the clean up round to the following Wednesday. The final visit on my left leg went much like the first, only not quite as busy, since they were just tying up loose ends, as it were, filling in some small veins adjacent to the larger one they had treated the previous week. The APRN got started, along with the cadre of assistants. Crystal was not there, though I hoped she'd turn up as she had the first day. We had developed a kind of rapport in the few minutes we'd had on the first day of treatment.
I wasn't disappointed. Crystal showed up about ten minutes into the process, coming up beside the table I was lying on, and giving me a couple of taps on my thigh. I squeezed her hand for a brief moment, and our eyes met, a momentary recognition of what seemed to be a slightly more than professional interest. The APRN got done, and the assistant cleaned up my leg where there was a little blood from the injections, and the disinfectant they used to clean my skin. As we had done the previous week, I had to put on the compression stocking to get the necessary pressure on my leg so it would continue to heal correctly. I had changed back into my own shorts from the ones they had me in for the procedure, and was starting to struggle with the stocking, which was pretty tight.
I had opened the door to the treatment room when I was in my own clothes, and was now up on the table, trying to work the stocking over my calf, Crystal looked in to check on me, and seeing my struggle, asked if I needed help.
"Yeah. This thing is tight, and I can't get the leverage I need. Last week when I was here, there were two people pulling it up my leg, one of the techs, and the kid-well, he's not really a kid, he's probably pushing 30..."
Crystal laughed. "Yeah, he is, but I get where you're coming from. I'm 57 and I look at all of them that way." She came around and had me lie back on the table, rolling the stocking down and getting the foot and heel in place, and then started rolling the stocking up my leg, going six or eight inches, then stopping to pull it tight, finally getting it up to the top of my thigh. As she got the stocking in place at the top of my thigh, I felt her hand rub across my balls, giving my cock a stir. I didn't think anything of it at first. I'd had any number of procedures done over the years, and had been groped and felt up inadvertently on a number of occasions. Most of the time, the women-almost always, rarely guys-were quite clinical, and I didn't make anything of it, never mind say anything. Crystal, on the other hand, was not your average bear in this regard. As she passed over my brief clad balls the third time, I commented.
"Find something you like??"
Crystal blushed. "Oops, sorry..." she said, blushing as a smile coming over her pretty face.
"It's OK. This isn't the worst thing to happen to me today."
Crystal laughed. "I was hoping to be more professional, but," she looked at me, again blushing, more deeply now. She said in a loud whisper, "You have the biggest balls." She rested her hand on them, giving up all pretense of getting my compression stocking into place. At this point, the stocking was not the item with the most compression that I was wearing; my underwear was growing rather tight under her touch.
I reached to pull her to me, and was about to kiss her when there was a knock at the door. She pulled her hand from me abruptly as the door opened. One of the techs stuck her head into the room. "We're ready in six," she said, then quickly retreated. Crystal looked at me with frustration on her face.
"OK, be right there. Just need to get Tom's stocking on correctly," said Crystal, giving me a look that showed all our frustration. She got me set up, and said, "Gotta go." She looked at the door a moment, leaned forward and kissed me, then went to the door, giving me a longing look as she left the room.
