Cyst saga II

Epidermoid cysts LOVE me. If you are a long time reader of this blog, you've read my 2016 cyst escapade, but in case you missed it or you're tuning in now, go here, here, and here, because we are about to embark on another. 

Several months ago, a pea-sized lump appeared just below the notch of my sternum between my breasts. I panicked, which now in thinking back, why? Why, after having been through the above, would I panic? But panic, I did.

Madison: "It's a cyst."

Duh. I felt foolish. I quit worrying. It just sat there.

My dermatologist appointment for my yearly skin check was last Wednesday. I love Dr. M. He has a great sense of humor (read the above here, here, and here), and he puts up with my bullshit. But his office could use my help. 

For the last three years, they've charged above and beyond my copay, and every time--EVERY TIME--the office mails it back a good six weeks to nine weeks after my visit. It annoys me, and when I've tried to reason with the money collector, last year the girl told me, "Who cares? We'll send your money back if we overcharged."

Everyone who knows me can't believe I walked away from her. But I did--seething.

Both my daughters go to Dr. M. and now, a month ago, my husband. None of them--NONE OF THEM are charged anything over their copay. Same family. Same insurance. Go figure. It's an airport patdown, a shakedown, and I keep bending over.

But I like Dr. M. 

So, I returned this February, and he checked me over from head to toe very thoroughly, and in the process of the examination, after he told me to "lay down," I corrected his grammar and gave him a lesson on lie and lay. God help me, but I did.

I became my mother.

He retaliated by squeezing my cyst.

No, that's a joke. I think.

He did squeeze my cyst. He grabbed my fat stomach and squeezed and squeezed, and cyst goop poured out. He didn't tell me he was going to do this, and when I felt him doing it, I did NOTHING. I blame old age. Even though I had not forgotten any part of my 2016 cyst escapade. But apparently, I had a small window of memory loss.

Dr. M: "I'm doing this because when I do the surgery later this month, it'll be smaller."

He wiped me with gauze, finished examining me, and then I signed an Ipad saying he could charge me millions of dollars to freeze something on my shoulder. At that time, I mentioned the payment issue and said I was going to charge him interest in keeping my payment so long. He told me to speak with his billing department. We parted ways.

I was charged $223.06.

Her: "And you have a deductible of $650.00 for the surgery. Do you want to wait to schedule that?"

Yes. Yes, I did. I left there seething once again.

After running some errands in germ infected places, I returned home, where I washed my cyst with hydrogen peroxide and put on Bacitracin, covering it with a bandaid.

Thursday morning, I woke up to a yellow and purple cyst and area. Friday, I was in pain and took off my bra by noon. Saturday and Sunday I went braless because the cyst was so painful. But there was no fever. Monday, Madison had her cyst behind her ear removed by Dr. M.

He did a great job. I can barely see it when I clean and wrap it. Madison said she told the nurse about my cyst.

By Tuesday, the cyst looked red and swollen.

Madison: "That's nasty. You should call them tomorrow."

Darcy:

Wednesday, I called the office and pushed the line for critical care. I left a message at 8:00 a.m. By 4:50 p.m., having never heard a peep from Dr. M.'s office, I was calling my neighbor's dermatologist for an appointment. They didn't answer.

Really?

This morning I called Dr. M.'s office and requested an appointment. The nice girl who answered the appointment line told me she'd get me in with the nurse. Uh-huh, I've been down this road.

Me: "Great! See you in an hour!"

It was like an episode of the Twilight Zone. The office staff couldn't have been more different--cheerful and delightful. I was checked-in, called in quickly, and when the nurse saw my wound, now red and with some protruding spots, why, yes, I took a photo.

That's on my stomach. It is not a nipple.

Nurse: "Okay, let's get you in a gown, and I'm going to go get Dr. M. since he squeezed the cyst on Wednesday."

Me: "We're blaming him?"

Nurse: "Absolutely."

I waited. Dr. M. came in, and without looking at it, apologized. I accepted it. Then I reminded him of the 2016 cyst escapade. I told him I wanted an antibiotic if he planned to lance it.

Me: "I know you don't remember, but I was sick. Very sick. For three days. I can't do that again."

Dr. M.: "Okay, so this is maybe more than staff bacteria on your skin, and me opening a hole for it to dive in."

He took a look.

Dr. M.: "Oh, boy. That's infected. I'm so sorry. Let me lay you back. That's correct, right? Because I'm putting you down. If I told you to do it, I'd say lie. Lie down?"

I squeezed his arm like my mother once did when she passed Hulk Hogan in a restaurant during his troubled times.

Me: "It brings a tear to my eye that you took my lesson to heart, but please, I am so sorry for correcting you. That was wrong of me."

Dr. M.: "Are you kidding? Ask my staff, I'm constantly correcting everyone's grammar. I'm the Grammar Police at this office. I loved it. I love learning."

Me: "Yes, but my mother always did this to doctors, and it annoyed the hell out of me, and now I'm doing it."

Dr. M.: "You're afraid you're becoming your mother? It's fine, but I'm going to have to lance this cyst. Make a big hole. I'm sorry. It's my fault."

I signed the Ipad and kept my lips pressed together. Dr. M. numbed me, then he cut me, then he numbed me again because I felt him slice me, and then he squeezed.

Dr. M.: "Oh, boy. There it is."

I looked. Green goop sat on my stomach. Yucky, bacterial, green goop.

Me: "Yeah, that's infected. I'll need an antibiotic."

Dr. M.: "I'll give you one."

He squeezed and pressed. 

Dr. M.: "Oh, there came some fat. You didn't know you'd get some liposuction today too, did you?"

Me: "Squeeze harder!"

Then he scraped. Supposedly, he got the cyst wall too. (Read above...I have my doubts). Then he and the nurse packed it with the packing gauze and covered it. I'm not to shower.

Oh, boy.

There will be a hole. I am to remove the packing and shove in some prescription cream. The wound will heal from the inside out. (Read above...it did before, fingers crossed it does again) I took the antibiotic as soon as I got it. The pain is miserable. I have to recline without a bra and hold my saggy boobs up because of PAIN, PAIN, PAIN. 

I pray this is the end of this saga. No 2016 repeat. He promised me I could go on vacation for Spring Break and swim. He'll see me back in a month.

I only paid my copay after explaining everything to the money girl--the same one who got me in to see the nurse today. 

I made my next appointment for a Thursday. Apparently, that's the day to go. Here's hoping the magic lasts!