Foaming At The Mouth
Calling Dr. Howard, Dr. Fine, Dr. Howard....
About ten years ago, I was lying on my futon at my apartment on Court St. in Iowa City when I noticed a painful growth right at the top of my ass. Sitting was quite painful and lying flat on my back was out of the question. I hadn't the first clue as to what it was and having no faith in the voodoo priests at the University Student Health clinic, I did what most twenty-year-old men would do when faced with a medical problem: I ignored it. And my lassitude paid off as the lump went away after a week or so.
Two years later, the lump came back with a vengeance and refused to be ignored. After several days of screaming pain, the damn thing exploded like the world's angriest zit. One trip to the emergency room later, I knew what the condition was called (pilonidal cyst) and after the civil-war-amputation treatment I got I resolved to never allow a medical professional anywhere near me again. From that point on I would improvise a solution whenever it acted up. Between the bourbon and the hunting knife, I kept it under control for several years.
To make a long story short, I got sick of blading myself open every nine to eighteen months. So I had surgery to get the damn thing cut out. Check out the stitches in my photo album! Even though I'm an eternal pessimist and a ongoing critic of the medical profession, for some reason I walked into the hospital yesterday confident that it would be painless and well-handled. And I was right. The 'twilight anesthesia' they gave me was just enough to keep me unconcious as the doctors cut open the top of my ass crack and removed a big chunk of infected tissue. So a big shout-out to Dr. Halverson at Northwestern Memorial Hospital for what appears to have been a job well done.
Walking will be awkward for a little while but, barring infection, I'll be 100% in less than two weeks. In the meantime, I've got twenty Vicodins to keep me company. I took about six old leftover Darvocets earlier today (which made me a little woozier than I'd have liked) but I don't think I'll need so much for the next week. The stitches come out on the fifteenth, and then (knock wood) I won't feel like I've got ground glass in my tailbone. People, don't take your lower back for granted....
Calling Dr. Howard, Dr. Fine, Dr. Howard....
About ten years ago, I was lying on my futon at my apartment on Court St. in Iowa City when I noticed a painful growth right at the top of my ass. Sitting was quite painful and lying flat on my back was out of the question. I hadn't the first clue as to what it was and having no faith in the voodoo priests at the University Student Health clinic, I did what most twenty-year-old men would do when faced with a medical problem: I ignored it. And my lassitude paid off as the lump went away after a week or so.
Two years later, the lump came back with a vengeance and refused to be ignored. After several days of screaming pain, the damn thing exploded like the world's angriest zit. One trip to the emergency room later, I knew what the condition was called (pilonidal cyst) and after the civil-war-amputation treatment I got I resolved to never allow a medical professional anywhere near me again. From that point on I would improvise a solution whenever it acted up. Between the bourbon and the hunting knife, I kept it under control for several years.
To make a long story short, I got sick of blading myself open every nine to eighteen months. So I had surgery to get the damn thing cut out. Check out the stitches in my photo album! Even though I'm an eternal pessimist and a ongoing critic of the medical profession, for some reason I walked into the hospital yesterday confident that it would be painless and well-handled. And I was right. The 'twilight anesthesia' they gave me was just enough to keep me unconcious as the doctors cut open the top of my ass crack and removed a big chunk of infected tissue. So a big shout-out to Dr. Halverson at Northwestern Memorial Hospital for what appears to have been a job well done.
Walking will be awkward for a little while but, barring infection, I'll be 100% in less than two weeks. In the meantime, I've got twenty Vicodins to keep me company. I took about six old leftover Darvocets earlier today (which made me a little woozier than I'd have liked) but I don't think I'll need so much for the next week. The stitches come out on the fifteenth, and then (knock wood) I won't feel like I've got ground glass in my tailbone. People, don't take your lower back for granted....