Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Alas, Edwin the Unbearable was not meant to be.

So, Friday I got a lipoma removed, which is basically a ball of fat. Which, I guess, is basically what I am, except this thing didn't also have a central nervous system.


I decided not to name it though I toyed with the idea of calling it Edwin the Unbearable.

The procedure was not as relaxing as I hoped. I now understand what it feels like to have a scalpel scrape across the abdominals. It is not something that would be enjoyable repeating. I also learned something else that was useful: the epinephrine anesthetic, while enthusiastic at inhibiting blood flow (a plus during any surgical procedure), does not really work on muscle fibers. I heard the staff discuss this after they peeled me off the ceiling. Three times. "We didn't realize it was going to be this deep," they explained. Note: next time, request the stuff that actually works on ALL tissue.

So today, the area was particularly tender. The doc checked and determined that I was just doing a bit much but was otherwise okay. They wanted to see me again in a month and sent me up front to make an appointment with the receptionist. This kind of thing happens all the time at doctor's offices, right? People make appointments and stuff?

Here's the ensuing convo that occurred:
me: I'd like to make a followup appointment next month for a wound check (thinking if I am using the EXACT SAME lingo the doctor told me, they should know).

receptionist: For what?

me: A wound check.

receptionist: Why?

me: To... check... the... wound?

receptionist: What for?
me: They said they want to check it in a month.
receptionist: Why?
me: To see how it's healing.

receptionist: For what?
me: To check it! (wanting to scream THIS CANNOT BE THE FIRST TIME YOU EVER HEARD THIS!!)
We finally started speaking the same language, I made an appointment and bolted.

Now I am exceptionally tired and cranky and going to bed in 3...2...1...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!!

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