An Oil Cyst, An Inflammation & A Scalpel

Those that know me very well know that I have a few little bumps here and there on my body. Though they seem a bit odd I have been assured by many doctors that it is a harmless skin condition called an oil cyst, whereupon the natural oil that the body secretes cannot escape due to a blocked pore and builds up under the skin. These are harmless bumps, and have been with my for some time.

However, every once in a while one of them goes... wrong.

A few weeks ago I realized that the oil cyst on my chest was beginning to hurt and as the days progressed it began to hurt even more. This was the same oil cyst that had led me to a doctor many years ago to discover what it was called, whether or not it was harmless and what to do with it. Those many years ago it was inflamed, making it bigger than before and discolored.

But it never hurt before. Not like this.

Finally, I decided to see a skin specialist gave me some cream and antibiotics. The cyst was indeed inflamed and hopefully the antibiotics would help it go down. However I had a gig in a few days and I could barely play my guitar sitting down let alone standing up because the movements of my right hand would trigger the pain from the cyst.

Enter the wonderdrug - arcoxia. The Reverend had recommended them to me when I had my wisdom teeth pulled out as they were the same painkillers he was using when he was getting his tattoo removed. Though they were pricey, they were worth it - non drowsy, lasts over 8 hours and no pain.

But after two weeks, the damn cyst hadn't gone down. In fact, at one point, it had ballooned to twice its size and I couldn't get through the day without the wonderdrug.

Yesterday, I went to the skin specialist again.

The doctor took one look at the cyst and proceeded to tell me that there's too much build up of oil and the only thing that could be done now was to cut it open and release the oil. No sooner had she told me that she opened the door next to her office to reveal a medical chair and various apparatus.

"We're going to do this now?" I wondered, "No appointment for another day, no anaesthetic?"

I sat down on the chair and the doctor pulled out the blade end of a scalpel.

Poke. Ow.

Poke poke. Ow.

SNIKT!!!

I know it was all probably in my head, but I could've sworn I heard this sound, akin to Wolverine sheathing his admantium claws. The sound that followed I'm quite sure wasn't in my head.

AAAARRRGHHH...!!!

Oodles of ooze and slime came out from the cyst, a mixture of oily brown and crimson blood, mostly liquid, some parts quite gooey and solid.

"And now we have to get as much of it out as possible," said the doctor. And then she squeezed the wound.

AAAAARGHH...!! NNNNGGGGHHH...!!!

"And now we need to stuff the wound with gauze in order to soak up the rest of the oil and blood that's in there," said the doctor.

The doctor then took out a length of gauze and a thin metal rod. She began to push. Then,

"The wound isn't big enough," said the doctor, "We're going to have to cut it open some more."

"WHAT?" was my only reply. She pulled out a fresh blade. Here we go again...

SNIKT!!!

AAARGGHH...!!!

"Now we can push the gauze in," said the doctor. Grabbing the metal rod once again.

SQUISH!!!

NNYYAAARRRGGGHH...!!!

I left the doctor's office with my right side in quite a bit of pain... and a slight relief. The pressure of the cyst was gone, replaced with the 'ordinary' pain of having a half inch deep cut in one's chest.

I would need the wonderdrug.

I drove to the pharmacist as best as I could with one arm in a manual car and walked up to the counter to ask for some more arcoxia. The pharmacist asked me to sign a ledger and, as I was signing it, I noticed everyone staring at me. Or, more accurately, staring at my chest.

The blood had seeped through the bandages and was dripping down my body, leaving splotchy blood stains on my shirt. My first thought

"Whoah. John McClane."

"Did you just get back from surgery?" asked the pharmacist.

"Yes," I replied, and proceeded to take my bag of drugs with me so that I could drive off home to rest.

Once there, I took off the shirt and noticed the bandage wasn't sticking on properly. I went to my medi-basket and pulled out some large plasters to try and keep the bandage back on, but after a while there was no use. The blood was still seeping through.

I later went back to the skin specialist with the aid of the Tamagotchi. The doctor opened up the bandage and I saw the hole in my chest for the first time, stuffed with gauze and soaked with blood. The gauze acted as a syphon to draw out as much of the crap inside as possible and it was working.

The doctor then pulled out the gauze in one quick motion.

AAARGGH!!!

I stared at the gauze - it was about six or seven inches long. How the hell did all that fit in the hole in my chest?!

"Ok, now we've got to put a new piece of gauze in," said the doctor.

"Are you serious?" was my only reply. Out came the metal rod once more.

They replaced it with a much larger bandage this time, though the blood still seeped through, enough to make a circular blood patch on the bandage. Henry suggested we spread the rumor that it was a gunshot wound and we almost convinced someone (though I'm sure the ruse did not last long).

Today I went once more to clean the dressing and replace the bandage. Thankfully, there's no longer a need to shove gauze down the wound with a metal rod, though I still have the gaping hole in my chest with a bandage over it. Now I have to clean and dress the wound myself and somehow shower whilst avoiding the wound. At least the pressure of the inflammation is gone. At least there's that.

What's most annoying about all this is the fact that there doesn't seem to be anything to avoid future cysts from popping up. All the doctors seem to say the same thing - if it pops up, it pops up. They're usually harmless.

But when they get inflamed... whoah boy. I am seriously considering getting all my oil cysts removed before any of them get inflamed again.

In the meantime, I for some reason wish that I had video'd the surgery.