Saturday night in the shower, I happened upon a (as Eddie Izzard would describe it) a big f*ck-off lump. Not your average clogged pore, your average golf ball sized invader that hurts like hell. Between my legs. In that spot between the girl parts and where both buttocks meet. I showed mom and Mike in a pose that is often seen in the pages of Hustler. Mom said “You should call your doctor, that looks like a boil.” Useful suggestion at 9 pm on a Saturday night.
So, I called my doctor at 8:40 on Monday morning, and got an appointment for 9:50. Just enough time to get some tea, right? Well, I ended up being the tiniest smidgen late just because it was full-contact parking day. Doc took one look at it and said "I'm going to give you some antibiotics."
Um, didn’t come here for antibiotics. I came here to have the invader cut off my body. “Can't I have it drained?!?!?!?!" Apparently, most folks go pale at the suggestion, so she doesn’t make it. She said she’d see if Surgery could fit me in.
Um, surgery??? Yeah, apparently this isn't a little poke, it requires a scalpel. Off to surgery where they ushered me into a nice little room within about 5 minutes. A very nice older PA came into the room. Followed not by a medical assistant or a kindly nurse. Followed by SUPER-HOT resident. You know, the popular guy in high school you either wanted to be or date? Because he was SO nice and SOOOOOO hot?? Yep, he’s here to learn from my boil. Yay. I’m happy to help train the next generation of medical professionals.
I’m given one of those teeny-tiny robes, which was at LEAST enough to almost cover by butt in the back. And give me the highly sought after Brittany Spears look if I crawl out of a low slung car in it. I climb up on the not-so-comfy exam table on my tummy to wait for the inevitable re-entrance of kindly PA and SUPER-HOT. Apparently, I was exposing more skin than the PA was comfie with, because he used another gown to cover up my legs so I “wouldn’t feel so exposed”. Yep, bare legs are what have me feeling exposed. They return and there’s not a whole lot I can do in these situations besides crack jokes and laugh. Except when he shot me up with a whole bottle of lidocaine. That hurt, so I did some DEEP BREATHING. I think some of the office paint took flight and is still lodged in my lower left sinus. He sent me off with a prescription for Vicodin to match the prescription for antibiotics my doc had given me.
I was FINE for several hours. Lidocaine? GOOD STUFF MAYNARD. Then? Wore off. And pain commenced. MUCH more pain than when the invader and I had been one. Vicodin is reserved for EXTREME circumstances because I’m mildly allergic to it. So, I endured the pain. And endured. I emailed boss man and said that between a big infection, and not exactly being able to sit, I was going home and going to bed. His sole comment? “Yikes!”
So, today, Thursday, it’s finally feeling better. Mostly. I bought a foam pad to sit on (they don’t call them hemorrhoid donuts anymore). It worked until today when it started to make my coccyx hurt.
So there you go…hope you find joy and meaning in my festering boil. Happy New Year!
Friday, January 08, 2010
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3 comments:
Debi . . .
Festering boils . . .
Hunky Residents . . . .
Lancing . . .
Lidocaine . . .
Therein lies one heck of a Bing Bang Theory episode plot arc . . . .
Happily/sadly, this would happen to Wolowitz and not to Sheldon who so righteously deserves it.
OWIE! OWIE! OWIE! OWIE!
Yeowtch! I'd reccomend a trip to Australia to recover, but 14 hours in an aeroplane seat may just about do you in.
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