Bye Bye Boil
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I have a boil. I know, boils are supposed to be reserved for creepy old guys who freak out young children with their grotesqueness. Come here my pretty.
Mine is not creeping anyone out but me because it is the size of a golf ball on my upper thigh, right near my lady bits. I thought I was originally growing a new leg until the doctor informed me of my deformity. I think I would rather have an extra leg because saying you have a boil just sounds disgusting. But, since I am in the habit of oversharing anyway…
I will not show you a picture of said boil. But I will tell you about my morning.
I was a bright and snowy (ugh!) morning, meaning that all Torontonians woke up with their stupid heads on. Especially if they had to drive. It is Canada for fuck’s sake. We have snow. Learn to drive in it. I digress.
I dropped kids at school and headed to the other side of town expecting the worst in traffic and at the doctor’s office. You see, my GP is a bit of a hypochondriac. I know right? Having a doctor as a hypochondriac is really awesome because you get to go to specialists for everything instead of him just taking care of it. I have been dying several times and by his reaction this past week, I am dying again. Here’s how it went down:
Me: I have, what I think is an ingrown hair. I pull down my pants and show him.
Doc: OMG! I am really glad you came in! You have a boil and that can lead to blood poisoning and death (blah, blah, blah…. who hears anything after the word death?).
Me: Sorry Wa?
Doc: You need to take these broad spectrum antibiotics and have a tetanus shot now (jabs arm). He calls the secretary and asks for an emergency dermatology appointment. She ran in moments later giving me my 930am Monday appointment for surgery apologizing that there was nothing sooner.
Me: Did you say surgery?
Doc: Yes. And that is big boil so you will have a really big scar if you don’t hot compress it all weekend. OMG, I am glad you came in!
I walked out with my script an appointment slip and started googling blood poisoning. Sure enough, I was dying. I just needed to hold out until Monday at 930 and then I would be OK. Should I get a pedicure just in case? Mister wouldn’t think to get an aesthetician to my deathbed and who wants to go out with ugly feet if they can avoid it? Must ponder…
I made it to Monday! Thank God, because I didn’t have time for that pedicure.
I set up for the long haul this morning. I thought the stitches, given the location, would aggravate me all day and I thought I might have to rest once there so I brought my book and iPad. Here’s how it really went down:
- After a 1.5hour drive behind every stupid-head in the Greater Toronto Area, I made my appointment just in time.
- I discovered the tray beside my table had nothing too ominous. The worst was the Smoke Eliminator beside the bed. If they have a smoke problem, maybe they should call someone and not find a solution on eBay? Just saying’. No scalpel to be seen. But as Gina put it “Sharp objects not to be left in vicinity of patient” might have been on the order. That’s fair.
- The doctor gave me a needle to freeze, left me alone in my hospital gown and returned soon after.
- Two incisions, a bit of pressure, some polysporin and a large bandaid and I was free to leave 10 minutes after I arrived.
- I was hoping to milk the ‘had to have stitches’ thing for quite some time.
- I can’t even call it surgery anymore (which sounds badass if I am out doing errands moments after surgery). I have to call it a ‘procedure’ which is so lame.
- I thought that making dinner was going to be impossible with all the standing with stitches on my legs I would have to do.
- I was hoping to sit around and read my book or watch TV all day with an excuse. Now I feel I have to do something.
- Do you know how much personal grooming I had to go through considering it was near my lady bits? I feel it was unappreciated.
So there is my day. How was yours?
Sigh… off to buy a carpet for the basement.