(this was friday afternoon - it is now saturday)
i'm still sitting at work, bored to friggin' death. gould hasn't been calling for c-arm for any of his cases, except for one this morning, and that's really weird. so, i have nothing to do. except go around the hospital and steal magazines. oh, yeah, that's something you probably never knew about me is that i have turned into the world's biggest magazine klepto. i don't really remember when it started, but i don't care if it's good housekeeping, vogue or jet, there's going to be some article or recipe or cute thing in there that i want, and sometimes i'm too embarrassed to rip out the page, so i just take the whole thing. ever wonder why i carry such a big bag all the time? ok, well, it's for that and to hide candy and smoothies in when i go to the movies. so there. it's out. i steal magazines. well, no, i just USE them. not from peoples' houses, because THAT would be stealing. only from doctors' offices. and my hospital. because if they're laying down, they're fair game.
ok, that's all.
um, the whole reason i was posting again today is because i wanted to record the story of heather, me and the pilonidal cyst. i can't remember if i told it properly, so HERE GOES:
i found the "thing in my buttcrack" (which was its preliminary name), called the doc's office, described it in full, colorful detail (along with the n/v, dizziness & mid-grade fever), and she was like, "um, you better just come in". so, i got there and had to see a male doc (dr gleason) on whom i've never even laid eyes before. he came in, "hi, nice to meet you" - pleasantries were awkwardly exchanged as i lay there with my fanny up in the air, he pulls the sheet down and says,
"ohhhhhhhhhhhhh gosh." (that's my favorite thing to hear - in the doctor's office & while getting my hair cut)
"oh gosh, what?"
he said he knew what it was just from the description they were giving him & WHERE IT WAS. (mind you, i don't know the medical term for fanny crack, so i just kept saying that) ok, blah, blah, pilonidal cyst, only pops up in that particular area, etc, etc.
"so, what you're saying specifically, is i have a buttcrack cyst?"
he actually laughed and said,
"yep, so you need to head to the er - we'll call and let them know you're on the way - and talk to a general surgeon, because that thing needs to be taken care of ASAP."
i staggered up to the xray dept, because i thought that's where heather was still visiting, but i wasn't thinking very clearly. she had specifically told me to CALL HER when i got out, so she wouldn't have to lay claim to me upstairs, but it happened anyway. i got up there, and she had already gone back down. being that i looked homeless, and severely ill to boot, i freaked all of her co-workers out (no, really, they looked SCARED), and stumbled back down to find her. she drops me off at the er, goes to pick up ricky and take him and the twins home, then comes back.
i begged her to bring food. thank god. she shows up with spongebob cheeze-its and a baggie full of chocolate candy. they're not going to tell ME not to eat from the junk pyramid.
so the doc comes in, and before he EVEN touches me, i'm like (while i'm crawling over to hide behind the stretcher and throwing dirty needles in his path to slow him down), "hey, do you even KNOW what a pilonidal cyst is? i mean, have you had DEALINGS with one??? cause dr gleason told me not to let you touch me if it's, like, your second day or something." he was well-acquainted with them, and he was actually very good and gentle with me.
so, i laid on my tummy, and he dosed me up with lidocaine. that was the worst, since they were sticking me in a place that was already red and infected beyond all belief, so it hurt worse than any pain i've ever felt in my life (yeah, i know i haven't had kids yet, so a sore throat, painful gas and amoebic dysentery is all i have to compare it to). tears were running down the sides of my face, even though i wasn't crying, and i know i was probably breaking heather's hands, even though she won't say. i also kept apologizing for moving around so much - they said i wasn't, but i felt like i was about to kick the doc in the head. maybe i just wanted to.
my fanny kept squinching up closed, and i was really worried the doc was going to get his hand caught. i didn't realize it, but that's one of those kinds of muscles that you can't control when it's scared. well, YOU know, when someone tells a gross story or talks about something that hurts, and your butthole sorta shrinks up into itself. it was doing that, only it was my WHOLE butt, and it was taking the doc down with it. i knew it was going to be one of those, "ok, all finished!...wait, where's my watch?" things. i guess your body just has all those automatic responses to protect you from the really dangerous things, like doctors and shark bites and pencils and falling and glass shards in your eyes and stuff.
so, he takes the scalpel and carves this thing open ("they carved you up like a christmas turkey," heather said). i had my head turned, and he must have made the first cut, and i saw heather and nurse both lean WAY back. the nurse actually took a step backwards. i was like, "hey, where's everyone going?" the nurse said, "well, i don't want it in my eye." "yeah, it's on MY BUTT, and i wouldn't want it in my eye either." so, he's hacking and chopping away, and i asked heather, "what's he doing?" she said, "i don't know. it's gross. i can't look at it," and i was like, "look at it! LOOK AT IT!!!! tell me what he's doing!!!" so, she consented and gave me the blow by blow of everything he did. she was brave. so, he did all that really gross stuff that i've already previously described, and packed it with the iodophore wick and cut it off. he went out to write my scrips, leaving me there, nearly breathless and ALMOST crying on the stretcher. as i'm writhing in pain, heather looks down and says, "awww. it looks like you have a little pigtail! it's a little, sorta pinkish, curly pigtail!" that, like, made everything better. i was so excited to go in with an abscess and come out with a tail. that's the coolest hospital visit i've ever had.
actually, you know, right before he got finished packing it, my percocet kicked in, and heather said, "ohhh, you got that warm, sweatery feeling, like everything's going to be ok?" i said yeah, like my cheeks were all flushed and i loved everyone (just like i am when i'm drunk).
so, i wasn't writhing THAT bad. and then, the lidocaine wore off...........
at this point you can probably guess what happened, and you can insert your own words, because whatever you think it was, i probably said it.