The little cyst that could

Monday, I had surgery yet again on the cyst that won't quit. My friend SueG offered to drive me because she feels invested in the cyst, having been my driver during one of my many visits back and forth to the dermatologist. As usual, when the two of us are together, hilarity ensued. As usual, where this cyst is concerned, problems arose.

• Hilarity - I wore my "wound center" scrubs that my mother received when trying to close her wound in the hyperbaric chamber. She passed them on to me, and I wear them when I need to play a doctor. I thought them very appropriate for surgery.

• Problem: I went into the bathroom upon arrival. Sitting on the top of a cabinet that held toilet paper and paper towels, was a pamphlet inside a plastic display frame. The picture was of a 34-year-old woman with stage four melanoma, and the verbiage said something about how much she would miss doing things with her family. It was depressing as hell and did nothing to relax me. 

• Hilarity - The operating table sat in the middle of the room and could be lifted up and down and swung around in a circle. The head of the table was small and jutted out by a metal neck. On the head was a big, fluffy, white pillow that I was supposed to stuff my face into, and so when Doctor M. came in, I inquired about a table head with a hole in it. SueG looked at me in disbelief. "This is not Massage Envy. He's not rubbing you down. Get up on that table and let's get this over with."

• Problem - I couldn't get comfortable on the table lying down on my stomach with my head in the pillow, so the doctor suggested he remove the table head so that I could put my chest on the pillow and dangle my head and arms. Unfortunately, when I got into position, my arms were touching metal, and since a laser was going to be used, I had to readjust so as not to get zapped.

• Hilarity - After the nurse finished asking me all of her questions, I went back to the bathroom. I took deep calming breaths, but then my eye went back to the poor woman with melanoma. I turned the frame around, but the same damn thing was on both sides. I finally took it to the girl at the front desk and suggested that she put it elsewhere. "It isn't something you should have in the bathroom where people getting ready to go under the knife are seeking peace and tranquility."

• Problem - This office has a "vest" made out of paper open to the back. It covered only my boobs. When I was in there last dealing with this cyst, my fever was breaking, and the paper "vest" ended up in shreds. I put this one on and griped about how attractive it was, and how it didn't cover my belly, leaving it protruding in all its white, fat glory.

• Hilarity - SueG reminded me it was a "vest" and that my stomach would be lying on the table "if you ever get up on that thing!" Eventually, in all my moving around, the "vest" ripped, so I pulled it all off and threw it at SueG.

• Problem - SueG had worked the night before, and this surgery was cutting into her sleep time. My appointment was for 11:00, but by the time I got settled on the table, it was after 12:00. Doctor M. arrived and took immense pleasure in sticking me numerous times to numb me. When he finished, he said he would return in five minutes. He was gone way longer than that.

• Hilarity - When he did come back and asked if we were ready, SueG said, "That was a long five minutes. I'm just saying, it was more like fifteen." I reminded her that Doctor M. was getting ready to cut me open, and maybe she should leave the sarcasm for afterward.

• Problem - Everyone was worried I would get zapped with the laser, so Dr. M. tried to put the head section back on to the table. It wasn't cooperating with the table reclined and me on it. 

• Hilarity - Dr. M. began jiggling it from side to side and up and down to get it back on the bar, but this caused the table, now way up in the air, to tilt, and when the resident tried to hold it steady, he made it spin. I pretended I was on a roller coaster and shouted, "Wheeeeeeeeee!" Dr. M. gave up and told me to keep my limbs away from the metal.

• Problem - The cyst was still inside my neck/back. It also had a tail that was heading up into my neck area, possibly heading for my brain. Dr. M. and the resident were fascinated by this turn of events. Unfortunately, when he went to remove this thing, a piece broke off and swam away to the left of my incision. Together, they tried to squeeze it back toward the incision, but no go. A discussion was had on whether or not he should cut open more of my back. SueG weighed in with "Cut it and get the damn thing out, we've already spent way too much time on this thing as it is." He opted to burn it out with the laser. He is 99.9% he got it all. I have some doubts.

• Hilarity - Dr. M. pulled out the cyst with its tail and held it aloft for SueG to examine. She did not take photos. He called it a small thing. She called it huge with this "long, yucky, dangling thing attached." She said the smell of my burning flesh with the laser about had her gagging. I told her she should have been the one inside the skin while it was burning.

• Problem - Dr. M. finally started stitching me up. I have no idea how many stitches I got, but it seemed to go on forever. At one point, I let him know that I could feel the needle as he threaded through my skin.

• Hilarity - "What?" he asked, "You can feel? Can you feel this?" and then he proceeded to poke me. When I told him I could feel his poking, he did it again. "Uh, hello?" I said, "what part of I can feel, don't you get?" He looked at SueG and conceded his five minutes of letting me go numb might have been a "tad too long." He numbed me all over again.

• Problem - The thread broke in the middle of his stitching. He wasn't too happy about that, and then discovered it was the wrong number thread. It was a size 4, and he wanted a size 3. Too late now. He told me it shouldn't be a problem, but not to lift anything for the next two weeks.

• Hilarity - I asked if a basket of laundry counted as heavy lifting. Dr. M. offered to write me a note if my husband required it. 

• Problem - Dr. M. asked, as he sewed if I cared how the scar would look, and I told him that my last dermatologist (who also removed a cyst from my neck--oh, yes, this isn't my first rodeo--had left nary a scar. "I'm not trying to pressure or anything, just mentioning it."

• Hilarity - Dr. M.'s response to that? He told the resident, in a teaching moment, "Now when a patient discusses how another dermatologist did a perfect job, that's when you sew in your initials or something else."

I was out of there a little before 2:00 pm. The wound was packed with a pressure dressing, and I was given drugs that came with a warning, "this is known to be addictive". 

I made SueG go through the Chick-fil-a drive-thru despite my diet, so I could get a milkshake. Then, I went home and went to bed. 

I don't know why anyone would be addicted to the drugs, but they did keep the pain manageable. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that the runaway piece isn't setting up shop somewhere else in my body.