More than 30 hours have passed since my cyst was removed, and I’m pleased to report that the excision was dreamy, and that I’m currently walking around with an ice pack in my pants because when the numbing shots wore off, my hip began to burn like a Blister in the Sun. (You’re welcome, Children of the 80s.) Oh, the burning! Like a fire beneath my waistband! (It will be better tomorrow.)
During the procedure (as I lay (dying, William Faulkner) on my side with shoes, glasses, underpants and everything else on, because everyone knows that I tend to roll with modesty), I asked the surgeon if the cyst was solid, liquid, or gaseous.
Surgeon: It’s solid with a bunch of scar tissue. Do you want to see it?
Me: NO!!!!!!! No, thank you!!! Um, yes. I do.
I turned my head around as the surgeon held up a little wiggly finger-like object.
Me: Vili Fualaau!
Surgeon: What?
Me: I was making a villi slash Mary Kay Letourneau joke. It wasn’t funny. Can I eat that thing so it remains a part of me? Never mind. I’m not making sense.
Surgeon: In a few seconds, you’re going to start smelling something that might seem a little strange.
(She was right.)
Me: That smells delicious! What is it?
Surgeon: Cauterization. It’s your skin. Basically, this is what you would smell like if you were cooking.
Me: I smell like a barbecued pork chop! Does everyone smell like a pork chop?
Surgeon: All skin pretty much smells the same.
Me: It’s funny, because I’m free range and corn-fed. I would imagine my burning flesh to smell more like a portobello mushroom!
Moral of the Story: You might think you’re better/smarter/cuter/et cetera than (insert your foe’s name here), but at the end of the day, you both smell like delicious pork chops when your skin is on fire. Sleep tight.
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Hilarious!! so glad you are doing well. Take care
Janet
Well if that isn’t the moral of the day, I just dont know what is!
Oh, geez.
Is there someplace where we can nominate this for “Post of the Week”? Or month, even?? Heck, this one could even be a contender for “Post of the Year” !!!
Angela Pudding — She’s simply Sizzleicious
And that’s why the cannibals refer to us as “long pig”, or so my dad used to tell me. I had a lot of nightmares as a child.
Glad you were able to get through the surgery and remove the alien.
Hope you recover and don’t feel the need to taste yourself.
I know a kid with a brain tumor that was getting radiation therapy. Apparently he could smell the insides of his head warming up when the rays were zapped through his head. Um… ew.
Speaking of tasty flesh, here is a really disturbing article: http://www.theawl.com/2011/03/cannibals-seeking-same-a-visit-to-the-online-world-of-flesh-eaters
You know what, you may not want to read that unless you have a really strong stomach. Feel free to delete the link, even. I’m having second thoughts about even sharing it here!
Okay then! Another thing I didn’t want to know!
So what you’re saying is that when you decide to quite vegetarianism, you’re just going to go full on cannibal. That or they gave some pretty nice drugs.
How many stitches?!
They gave me the SAME drugs when I had a cyst removed….I only remember flirting with the doctor until they put me to sleep, but I know there was more.
I really, really wanted to see a picture of the cyst.
I’m so ashamed.
A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips…unless surgically removed.
Ohhh glad to hear you are on the road to recovery! Hope the ice is still doing the job!
Ignore this comment — am just (*finally*) taking steps to post with my actual-factual e-mail addy instead of the disposable hotmail one at which I (infrequently, due to almost never thinking to check that one) am amazed and astonished to find comments back from the constantly amazing and astonishing Angela Pudding! :-)