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Thursday, Nov. 06, 2003 - 6:48 P.M.

The Pits!


Wednesday 8:30 A.M. I call the Dr. to say the arm is worse, even though I have taken 2000 mg of Ceftin for five days. It's bad. Throbbing. I get an appointment for 4:30.

Wednesday 9:00 A.M. I call back, the throbbing is making me nauseous. They give me the first appointment, 2:00.

Wednesday 2:00 P.M. Dr. looks at it, makes a face. Schedules me for surgery tomorrow at 10:30. She wants to open it up more, take a culture to see what kind of funk is in there not responding to the Ceftin, and then pack it. (gulp).

Wednesday 8:30 P.M. I try to call Pitbull, but she doesn't answer, so I leave a message on her machine. I page her to tell her I'm having surgery, hoping she'll call me back, but she doesn't.

Wednesday 9:00 P.M. I go to bed throbbing and worrying about the needles that will face me in the morning.


TODAY

6:00 A.M. I awake with pain, fear, force myself back to troubled sleep.

7:45 A.M. I call Pitbull's office, but get the voice mail, I leave her a message. I am so nervous.

8:00 A.M. Surgical center calls and delays surgery by one hour. I appreciate the notice, but now have another 60 minutes worth of pacing to do.

9:30 A.M. I finally take my shower, since Regis and Kelly has turned boring (I watched Will Ferrell). Scrubbed armpit good, shaved around it as nearly as possible. HEY! Those little stubby armpit regrown hairs hurt!

10:00 A.M. MOTH takes a pre-surgical photo of the pit. Actually, it looked much worse before, and the picture does not do justice to the angry redness and swelling. So if it looks gross, remember, it actually looks WORSE!

10:09 A.M. While trying to play some Spider Solitaire on the pc, I notice my hands a shaking so bad it's hard to play. I know that they are going to do this under a local, so there will be (likely) no I.V. However, while that's a good thing, that means that they will again be injecting anesthetic into my armpit. Bad enough for most mortals, but now add in the phobia factor.

10:27 A.M. Crap, my shaking is worse. I hate being phobic, it's such a major drain.

10:47 A.M. MOTH won't let me waste any more time, so I have to get dressed and go toward the needle. I am so glad he's insisting on being in the room with me. It won't hurt any less, but I can at least look toward him when they torture my pit.


11:15 A.M. Arrive at the hospital.

11:55 A.M. Leave the hospital. Oh, you want details? Well...the Dr. was nice and she did everything she could to make a phobic feel as at ease as possible, however, when she tried to inject the numbing stuff, the pressure from the abscessed cyst pushed it right back out, which meant that she had to make the cut without much numbing agent at work. I didn't know, however, that the needle part was finished, so when she made the cut, I began to freak. I thought she had pushed the needle deeper. I began to cry. And hyperventilate. And crush MOTH's hands. But I didn't pull away, and I didn't scream (OK, I whimpered and maybe yelped a bit) and I didn't pass out. But I did cry. The pressure was also so great that as soon as she made the armpit episiotomy, the pressure from within shot out the 8 pounder. Which is, I guess, a good thing. I named him Rupert.

She packed it while I tried to get my breathing under control and joined with MOTH and the nurse by telling me that I did quite well, considering the seriousness of the wound.

1:00 P.M. Any numbing that had taken is now gone and my armpit it throbbing and stinging and making me jump. I also have bled through the packing and the bandaging and through my shirt. Super. MOTH is out getting more mega antibiotics. I guess there is some strain of crap that is resistant to most antibiotics, and they are culturing the stuff that came out for that, but in the meantime, she wants me to take the pills. I am in such horrid pain, worse than before I went.

6:25 P.M. Today was the pits.


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