Who knew you would wrestle with stockings?

Who knew you would wrestle with stockings?
My therapist said I had three options to reduce the swelling in my ankles, and we chose compression stockings.

Little did we know what we were getting into.

Phyllis was particularly gung-ho about our decision. that was before it turned out to be a two-person operation. I could put the socks on, but I couldn't take them off. However, there were other complications before that.

First of all, we had to find the danged things which were in our fiscal range. I bristled, "I'm not going to pay a hundred bucks for a pair of stockings, no matter how much compression they have."

"Oh, yes you are!" she said sweetly. "After all, it's your health we're talking about here."

I grumbled my assent when we found a place that had a supply of support hosiery. The lady who helped us said that were Jobsts, as if that made a difference to me. All I wanted to do was get the socks and go home.

But she advised that we try them on to see if I liked them, so I replied, "Sure! We don't want something that doesn't work" (me who kicks the tires of a new car I'm gonna buy to see if it runs right).

So Phyllis and I tugged and pulled, but we couldn't get the stocking on. I was about to forget the whole thing when the helpful gal interrupted our dilemma by showing up with a Rube Goldberg gadget called a Stocking Donner.

"Here," she said, "is something which will help you get the socks on."

The Donner turned out to be a simple device which even I could figure out, but first I complained about the color of the stocking. "Haven't you got something besides this ugly brindle brown thing?" I said.

Well, I had to be satisfied with "that brindle brown thing," so we bought the socks and the Donner and went home. That's where the trouble really began.

I tried to put the hose on. I used the Donner like the instructions said, but on the first try I got my foot in too far so that my big toe curled up. that elastic stuff is certainly hard to manage, so I had to take it off and start over.

Then I discovered that I couldn't do it alone, so I did the husbandly thing and yelled, "Phyllis, I need your help!"

Like a good wife, she came running, as I hollered, "Take it off; it's killing me."

She grabbed the stocking, tugging at it until I was freed. It came off inside out, which we learned was the only way to do it.

An hour and a half afterwards, I finally had the stockings on with hardly any wrinkles. It was a triumph over an evil thing!

But do you know what? Those support hose really work. The literature says, for one thing, they are good for women who get spider or varicose veins after pregencies.

Well, I don't have varicose veins and I don't think I'm pregnant, so I'll keep using them – so long as Phyllis is willing to take the danged things off.

© 2007 Robert F. Karolevitz

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