Sick * AND * Deprived

WARNING: This post is Graphic, a bit rude, and certainly not for the squeamish.

I was really quite prepared to play doctor- a little jekyl and hyde type doctor AND Frankenstein body-modification. You know, - play Do It Yourself Home-Surgery type thing… Ali the DOKTORRRR (and the patient)

Surgery for Dummies?? No, no- I have experience! I would have gone and got a hollow needle, and torn apart a razor… DUH! ;P I even have hand sanitizer. All set!

The way it grew up from a tiny sore spot Wed, to over an inch long and more than half an inch wide- in just a few days- told me imaginings of this lump being cancer or something serious were really not to be worried about.

I could understand the seriousness of leaving this inflamed mass though- a long lost tale of ingrown hair on the back, left unattended till festered and beyond making a man a parapalegic.

I remember thinking then, ‘who on earth would ignore their (precious) body so far?’, yet near enough had to be talked into going to the clinic myself! Ah, but only days… not months- and of course, I could have lacerated it myself....of course the nature of this lump, the area it decided to locate itself it, was not to be ignored, either. Follow from your left ankle straight up your leg, past your knee, continue up your thigh to the crevasse where leg meets body, on the Up side of that lay this mass. on the labia side of things.

I was fairly sure one of my unnaturally thick, unnaturally deep-set hairs had lodged itself, as is wont to do in my strange half-boy body. I’ve many times seen lengths of hairs completely visible and yet completely under the skin.
On the other hand, years of fear of spiders laying eggs made me think that perhaps now, in this most blandly ‘safe’ of countries, near boring really, and after surviving near 2 years of Africa, perhaps NOW a spider has layed it’s eggs beneath my skin. That would be ironic, and somewhat hilarious (with two more glasses of wine).

I very certainly had not ruled out, either, Alien eggs. In fact, I came to reception and asked for the female doctor, if possible, but really much more important – the doctor who was best able to deal with Alien Spawn…. In cases like this, humor and truth are very important. Know thyself – and in this case, Alien babies aren’t really so far fetched….


In the end Dr Alison did preside. Dreams of frightening you all with pictures of the alien abduction/birth were put aside when the tester pictures scared me far more than ideas of spiders under my skin.

Good thing. In the end I had to very much focus on breath, and even then had wet cheeks. Happy memories of other times dealing with pain not only helped but made things interesting. She (the doctor who actually has her credentials, and a scalpel rather than a torn-apart-razor-blade) also believes it was an infected lost hair. I think that she stole my alien baby, but whatever. Dr Alison had red curls and a lovely face and I was far too distracted as she took her scalpel within an inch of all my (apparently not so fantastically gorgeous) woman bits. With a voyeur, even! Oh yes nurse. Of course you can watch! Chaparone all you want!
Shall I leave you there with that most lovely of thoughts? Scalpels and luscious bits… Red headed doctors and a female nurse “chaperone”…. Oh the IRONY! I could cry. Oh wait, I did that.

Walking to the grocery, after, gave me just a moment of travel sadness. Just one of those momentary-moments, I’ve not been gone long so it only lasted but a few seconds. When raining and dark and taped up and sore and the little shit drugs haven’t kicked in (Tylenol and Ibeprophen only), and I’ve no one to call to come walk with me from the hospital (never mind a drive), or hold my hand… It’s better… ? it’s ok… though, really. I have nothing but to get on with it, rather than curl up and pout, just walk on, go buy some things like drugs and eggs, and en route the ibuprophen kicks in.

I really cried my eyes out later, watching “Finding Neverland”….That’s worth tears, the beautiful story of painfilled letting go, playing in spite, or due to, hardships, playing to fulfill life…. completely pain free for the first time in 3 days as the swelling is down a bit, the red wine is adding ambiance, and the simple tiny moments that are life are creating magic….

Life is amazing for things like this. To red wine and ibuprophen, to Finding Neverland being on tv just exactly NOW. Singing as I do dishes, sing songs of how incredibly blessed my life is and how little this pain is in the face of all these dreams come true and in the face of all the real pain I’ve seen, and then this insane BBC documentary comes on. Think Sin Cities geek seriously looking at life. Asking questions. In San Quentin. Shit.

I don’t think this is quite the post for my ‘family’ blog…. I’ll have to come back to it much less doped up on the glories of red wine and shit nothing drugs. Why? Mostly because I thought the red headed doctor was hot. But come ON!!! Does that necessitate hiding? Or because I mention drugs... It must be my missing Shambhala. I don’t care about ‘good drugs’ much, most often thinking along the lines of ‘that’s OK, I can take it’, but I’m feeling a bit put out that I couldn’t get something a bit…more… well- incredibly effective. ;) must be a bit of princess showing through. Or playful. Well, I've got this bottle of wine for tonight and starting tomorrow I'll have to behave for a WHOLE WEEK for these anti-biotics to take full effect. Cause I'm mature like that.