Fun-Filled Friday

Some of you may recall when I had a cyst removed from my right wrist, back in 1996. It was a very much horrible experience. Along with the pain, the sausage fingers, and the crying, I remember being so mad at Rob because he wouldn’t shut up and let me rest. I had to call Sam and ask him to come back to the dorm, because Rob had to leave. And why did he have to leave? BECAUSE HE WOULDN’T SHUT UP. Sam knew enough to just watch a movie and leave me alone. Then, in 2003, I had a cyst removed from my left wrist. Done by the same doctor, too. Still a very much unpleasant experience, but not nearly as traumatizing as the first surgery. I think the doctor used better drugs the second time. More importantly, I got better drugs, too.

All of which brings me to this afternoon. A new cyst appeared on my left wrist several months ago (in fact, I also have a small cyst on my right wrist, but as long as it doesn’t cause any problems, I’m not going to worry about it). This new cyst recently started causing some pain in my hand, particularly along the line of my index finger and thumb. So, back to the doctor I go. I had to be there at 3:00 for a 3:15 appointment. At 3:30, the nurse took me to an exam room. At 4:05, the doctor decided to pop in for a quick visit. After poking, prodding, twisting, squeezing and manipulating, he determined that, yes, indeed, there’s a cyst on my wrist. He made a very manly effort to pop it, which resulted in nothing more than an overwhelming desire to smack him silly. But I resisted. At 4:10, the doctor was gone and my wrist was being x-rayed. At 4:25, the doctor was back with the x-rays. Apparently, I have the hand and wrist of a 14 year old (a 14 year old with a cyst, but still... And yet, I have the knees of a 55 year old. Go figure.). At 4:33, a nurse was scheduling my surgery. A long wait for a whole lot to happen real fast. The end result is that I go to the hospital October 6 to have the cyst removed during outpatient surgery. They could have done it September 29, but I don’t want my arm in a splint for the herding trial that weekend. Gotta have priorities. With luck, we’ll have a repeat of the 2003 surgery, and not the 1996 trauma. And good drugs. Lots of good drugs.