A lot of cool things happened this past week, and I’m excited to share them with you. (Even if you’re already rolling your eyes in annoyance. Assjack.)
Since this is a four-parter and randomosity is the name of the game, I want to begin with a wicked experience I’m glad I partook in. It occurred today, actually.
Right before noon, I underwent a quick surgical procedure, and I’m glad to announce:
Read This. I Incyst.
About three years ago, a lump formed on the side of my scalp. Unless I scraped my razor on it while shaving my double-horseshoed hairline, I never noted its existence. Then, like the Blob of seemingly ancient horror fame, it grew.
Recently, someone commented I had a third eye on my head. I laughed because it wasn’t offensive. It was a sign.
It was time to remove the growth.
My doctor checked it out and referred me to a surgeon for removal. Today, the surgeon confirmed the lump was a cyst. Then she offered to remove it right then and there if my pain threshold was high, or I could be referred for a full-blown drift-off-to-la-la-land procedure.
Although I dislike all medical/dental procedures, I thought, Fuck it. Why not get it over and done with?
Ten minutes later, while lying on my side, needles entered my skin. The surgeon massaged that area of my scalp for twenty seconds or so (to disburse the anesthesia, I assume). Then she pressed something against my skin and asked if I could feel it.
“Nope. Just pressure.”
She and her nurse warned me of possible impending pain and insisted I speak up. Then I felt more pressure as she went to work.
Note to the Squeamish: Look Away!
Soon, I realized she was slicing the cyst away from my skin. I could hear the quiet crunch of tissue breaking away with each swipe of her hand, could feel it tugging away. For some reason, that realization almost sent giggles rippling through me.
A couple minutes later, the surgeon said she would have to burn the wound to stop the blood flow. My knuckles once more turned white as I gripped the seat. I imagined immense pain. Tears squeezing from the corners of my eyes. Screaming unwarranted obscenities at a doctor who seemed kind, gentle, and more than competent.
Instead, as the equipment touched my numb skin, I felt a gritty blast drill against my skull. Like a miniature sandblaster. Then the pungent scent of burnt flesh and hair follicles danced upon the air, throttling my senses.
I had to suppress more giggles.
The surgeon then said she was going to poke some more needle holes and once again warned of probable pain. I gripped the side of the seat in anticipation. I felt the needle enter, but there was no pain. Then a rush of cool liquid seemed to trickle down my skull.
Beneath the skin.
As it occurred, I pictured the numbing medicine oozing against bone like that green slime from Nickelodeon. It was a surreal feeling, and it once again produced a strange sense of glee.
It wasn’t until later, when she was wiping the area, that I wondered if my assumption had been wrong. Why was she cleaning the exact spot where the strange sensation had occurred? On a hunch, I asked if it’d been blood.
She said it was.
Once I was bandaged up, I asked to see the thing that’d grown inside me for three years. It looked like the head of a shelled shrimp:
I finally allowed my euphoria to bubble over and chuckled at the strange little thing.
None, really. I just thought it was a fucking wicked experience. And I might be able to use that in a future scene or story.
I hate medical procedures and would have preferred to just have my wife knock me upside my head with a heavy tome to defeat the evil growth. I’d also considered growing my hair out. But rather than look like an octogenarian Bobo the Clown, I needed the cyst—the evil nuisance—banished from my scalp forever.
So I grew a pair and found some spoils for my writing in the process.
But that’s not even close to the coolest thing that happened this past week.
Stay tuned. There’s more randomosity coming soon.