I am now singing Bon Jovi in my head. You are welcome.
So, I have had this bump on my head… for a very long time. I remember it at least 8 or 10 years ago. I don’t remember it when I was a child so it popped up at some point. It is a cyst, the doctors assure me. Let them know when it starts hurting or growing bigger, they said.
Four months ago I read with horrified fascination about the Everywherist having a brain tumor named Steve. (She’s fine. She’s entertaining though, go read her.) Then, three weeks later, a family friend had almost the same thing and had to get brain surgery as well. Being completely self-absorbed, I put my hand on my bump and wondered if it was getting any bigger. I poked at it a little and thought, yes it does hurt a little when I jab at it with my finger.
I whined to the husband and he rolled his eyes at me and called me a hypochondriac. (I love that man. No seriously, I do.) So I decided to just wait a bit. If I went in, they would just want to take it out. Cutting my head? Boo. Plus I had all these OTHER doctor appointments to make and I promptly made a rule to only see one doctor per month. The dentist won first.
So a few months went by and I could FEEL that bump. I wouldn’t be doing anything but it throbbed a bit. Twinged maybe. My hair stylist was a little freaked out by it and when I would obsessively ask her if she thought it was getting bigger, she completely agreed with me. When was I going to get that bump seen, she would ask?
Anyway, this story is boring but I went into the dermatologist today. I had never seen this one but my other two options were a) completely scary with no bedside manner and would POKE at my FACE whenever I would see her and b) probably busy and far away. So my GP said they liked this one, they actually came into the office once a week. SOLD.
The wait was really long. There were some interesting characters in the waiting room. There was a nice woman who watched me and the husband chat and asked if we were married, and when I said yes, she said she knew and she could tell we were so in love.
Actually, I’m not sure what she said but it sounded something like that.
So we waited, and waited, and waited. Then we went in. We waited some more. Our little office happened to be the supply room. There was a microscope in there that one of the girls kept coming in to use. We were very tempted to ask to take a look too.
The nurse there, let’s call her Ms Bad Mood… she had no personality whatsoever. She kept walking in, ignoring us, and getting things out of the cupboards. She did not respond to ANY of my amusing and witty comments whatsoever. (Fine, I don’t really ever have witty comments. Whatever.)
The Dr came in. He seemed to answer my husband seriously about if we could take the sample home. I started thinking this was maybe a bad idea. Except then the Dr left his iPad in the room when he walked out and it started playing Britney Spears and we stared rocking out to his music.
Ms Bad Mood came in to give me my shots. I tried asking her name because you should always know the name of someone who was going to give you shots, right? She didn’t seem to agree. She also couldn’t figure out how to turn the iPad off and tried to cover the speakers with napkins. She didn’t appreciate my helpful comments on how to turn it on.
The husband and I were laughing hysterically at this point. I was trying not to freak out about needles going in my head and was starting to ask more bizarre questions to the nurse trying to get her to crack a smile.
Apparently asking if those numbing shots would numb my brain wasn’t that funny though.
The husband thought it was hilarious –> insert all your dumb ‘your brain is already numb’ comments here, thank you.
So the nurse tortured me a little and OW, I hate shots. She just kept shooting them into me. At least 5 times. All the way into my SKULL. My poor little brain. It needed a hug.
She sailed out and the Dr started doing his thing. He had a completely off-beat sense of humor. I was lightly complaining about Ms Bad Mood not giving me a smile as she shot my brain, and he gave me the cutest little Beanie Baby Horse ever. He said it was usually for small children but he would make an exception for me. We will be adding a little bump to Horsie’s head to commemorate the day.
We covered all sorts of random topics like how my husband is such a nice guy to be holding my hand and how nice guys just don’t win. He is not going to be a nice guy anymore. We got the feeling (and a few details) about how this guy was in a 2 year relationship and bam, something bad happened.
As we were joking around, he commented how only people who like S&M could really appreciate being cut into. Which was so random. Let me tell you. So that brought us to discussing 50 Shades of Gray, which was also entertaining. He wanted a synopsis so I desperately tried to change the subject but we still got to talk about who tied up who.
All the while, he was puncturing my little bump, killing it, and dragging out all the delicious little pieces inside. The husband may have gotten a little woozy at some point. I’m just saying that he may have had to sit down a few times.
And my poor little head was squeezed, just like a pimple, and dragged out all sorts of disgusting stuff. I looked later and it really didn’t seem like enough junk to fill up that bump. Cause that bump was big. I would not have been a very attractive bald woman. Just saying.
This Dr though was quite good. Being completely random and a little crazy at least kept me distracted.
So that’s the end of my boring story. My boring bump that will be analyzed on a slide and we can’t have it sent back home to keep in a jar, so the husband is sad. It’s probably nothing, no one seemed very concerned.
PS. I’m thankful that it was relatively easy to get this taken off and that it is (or will be) NOTHING to worry about!
My head now itches with it’s stitches and matted/cut hair. I have to remember no hair washing tomorrow. Sammie thoughtfully wrote me a sign that said NO SHOWER FOR YOU, MOM and stuck it on the shower. Such a sweet baby.