Fore!

Warning: The following post is not for those with stomachs weaker than titanium. To test the strength of your stomach go to this site.

If you managed to view the site without vomiting and wanting to claw your eyes out, then read on…but be warned that it involves blood, goo, and a crater in my back.

Back in 1994 I developed a small pea-sized thing on the center of the small of my back, right on my spine. It never bothered me. It never hurt or did anything alarming. It was just there, getting a free ride through my life. It was a guest at our wedding, the birth of our kiddos, moving, working at jobs, staying home, birthday cake mishaps, presidential elections, life. It kept its trap shut and knew its place: don’t bother me and I won’t bother you.

Apparently my little “friend” looked at the calendar, saw it is 2005, and promptly went stark, raving, drooling, spewing, burning mad.

About 2 weeks ago I noticed my “friend” had put on some weight. Hmmm, I thought.

A few days later it started hurting, just a little. Hmmmm.

Finally, it declared mutiny and tried to take over my back. It grew in size alarmingly, was bright red, and it was angry. Hubby compared it to the sun once rings began to form around the perimeter. It appeared that a new universe was being born. It was the size of a golfball, cut in half.

It was impossible to sit normally, drive normally, and sleep normally. Tearfully, I dialed the doctor’s number and made an appointment.

He said “hmmmm, these things happen. I could slice it open for you, but it isn’t ready. Take these antibiotics and put heat on The Mother of All Zits. And here is the phone number for the surgeon’s office upstairs. You will need it.”

For a week I dutifully popped Keflex and held hot objects on it, hoping it would just…go…away…

But I only made it shake its fist in my general direction and vow to stay forever and ever on my back. It twirled its greasy mustache, flourished its cape, and grew large enough to develop magnetic poles. So hubby and I decided to take matters into our own inept hands.

On Saturday night we decided it had to go. We prepared our surgical field (the bed) by laying down a pink towel. Our instrument of choice was a straight pin from my sewing basket. I asked hubby what his favorite color was (blue) and chose a pin with a pearly blue ball on one end, for better leverage. We lit a match and sterilized the pin, then dipped it in rubbing alcohol.

Are you ready? he said.

Go for it! I said, feeling fed up enough that if he was using an ice cream scoop I would be fine with it.

Ouch! Ouch! Ouch! It hurt a lot more than I anticipated. As a defense mechanism, it must have stockpiled nerve endings. We began to brainstorm ways to numb my back. Ice might make it too hard. But rum would work!!

I drink alcohol about four times a year: our anniversary toast to another quiet year, New Year’s Eve, a beer at some barbeque, and when I have to perform minor surgery on myself. We have one bottle of alcohol in our house, and that is a bottle of Bacardi Spiced Rum we bought two years ago for a pork tenderloin marinade (mix it with soy sauce, it is yum-yum for your tum-tum).

Hubby poured about two-shots worth into a coffee mug and I slammed it back and waited for nonchalance to kick in. Finally, it did, but not enough to make surgery remotely possible, so we gave up. I didn’t want to consume any more alcohol. I still needed to read bedtime stories and didn’t want them to sound like this:

“Sham I yam! Dat Sham I yam! I don’ like green ehhs an’ HAM! Ya wannum in a box? Ya wannum wif a fox?”

Sunday, blizzard day, I decided NO! I couldn’t let it win! This was WAR! Monday morning I tearfully made an appointment with the surgeon. Yesterday, I went. Yesterday, my friend was executed, but not easily.

It left a one-inch-deep crater in the small of my back. The surgeon was stunned at how deep the thing had burrowed. She had to pack six inches of gauze inside. It must remain open until it heals from the inside-out. Therefore, I need to go have the packing changed every few days which feels as good as it sounds. Today’s packing-change was a laugh riot as the nurse pulled out and then stuffed my back with gauze through a tiny little slit. I can hardly, hardly wait to go back on Friday and do it again! And then on Monday! Again!

I am the luckiest girl in the hole wide world.