07.28.2004
10:02 a.m.
No dollar for me
Two words: FREAKING OW.
So, I'm alternating between "freaked out" and "let's get this over with" feelings this morning. I get to the doctor, check in, sit in the waiting room and only wait about 5 minutes before being taken back...
To a room that has a sign outside that says "EMERGENCY ROOM." I thought, "Uh oh. That doesn't sound good."
The nursing student takes my temperature (97.7...I'm cold blooded), blood pressure (124/68, when my normal is 100/70) and pulse (100). She said, "Yeah, I can tell you're a bit nervous."
We get some paperwork done, and she had me change into the lovely paper top thing. Woo!
I change, sit down, and try to calm down. Then I read 70 pages in my book before anyone comes in again, in between staring at the GIANT CLOSET full of scalpels, syringes, stitching material, biopsy punches, and various other scary medical implements.
Mmm..yello? As much as I don't want this done, I also don't want to be here all day. I can work myself up into quite a tizzy if given enough time. (Plus, I am my father's daughter, so I may start digging through drawers to see if there's anything I might want to take home as a souvenier.)
So, the doctor FINALLY comes in, takes a look at it, measures it, and gives me the options.
"Well, we can either shave it off at the skin, but it might grow back. Or, if the pathology report comes back as something bad, we'd have to remove it completely anyway. OR, we can punch it out today, so we'd get all of it, plus a halo of skin around it. Then I'd have to give you a few stitches, and you'd have to come back again in 7 to 10 days to have them removed."
I thought, "Hmm...tortured once, or tortured twice? I vote once."
Once everything was decided, and I was positioned on the table, he sprayed on some topical anisthetic. It reminded me of a can of that compressed air that you use to clean computer components. It was COLD. Then he gave me the lidocaine injection.
What did I do?
Cried, because I am the toughest woman [biggest baby] in the world.
I said, "My husband promised me a dollar if I didn't cry. Guess I don't get it."
The doctor said, "Why not? We won't tell. Tell him you did great."
Once it was numbed, he punched it out with one of the biopsy punches (which, coincidentally, I had just been thinking sounded pretty damn scary just moments before.) He staunched the bleeding a bit (but not before it ran down my front and across my boob. Sexy!), and stitched it up with two stitches.
He and the nurse cleaned it up, and she put a giant band-aid on it.
He told me to sit up slowly, so I did. Then he told me how to take care of it afterwards, to check it for signs of infection, etc. I tried to pay attention, but really I was more interested in all the pretty white lights that were flashing across his face, and how the blood in my body felt like it was rushing to my feet.
After he left, the nurse took one look at me and asked, "Are you okay?"
I said, "Um...I kind of feel like I'm going to pass out." Then I put my head between my knees.
Then I decided to lay down, so that if I did actually pass out, I wouldn't fall face-first off the table. (Ooh! Alliteration!)
All in all, it sucked big hairy donkey balls. The fact that I have to be careful with my arm, that I can't lift weights with my arms or use the moving bars on the elliptical SUCKS. I'm also not supposed to shower for 24 hours, but is an hour or two really going to make that big of a difference? I doubt it.
So, it sucked...but at least it's over. Now I just have the stitch removal (and pathology results) to look forward to, and then I can hopefully avoid the doctor for a good long while.
And now, if you'll excuse me, I think I need to put my head between my legs for a minute or two again...
Just for fun...a picture of my stitches!
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