Yes, I am the former owner of a pus-filled cyst.

if that didn't gross you out entirely, I don't know what will. Perhaps this account will .... (turn away if you hate this stuff)

I've had this 'thing' on my shoulder for about ten years now. I first developed it when I didn't have health insurance, then I did, then I didn't and well, now I've had decent health insurance the past couple years and have done nothing about it. Until yesterday.

I've been seeing a dermatologist once a year these past few years because I am a pale, pale human and my mom has had skin cancer in the past. (She, however, has been out in the sun much more than I ever have. I just think about sun and I burn.) Last year I asked her about the lump on my shoulder and she replied that it was a cyst, it could go away on its own and if it didn't, she'd take it out.

Deal.

So this year I get brave. I go in for my regularly scheduled check and everything is hunky-dory. My only question was when she could remove the lump off my shoulder. She schedules it and then yesterday was the day of truth.

To be honest, several years ago I had my mom stab it with a syringe (yes, medicine at home should not be practiced, yes, yes) and try to drain it. Unfortunately it would not cooperate. This was in the 'no insurance' stage of my existence. Not recommended.

Yesterday at 10 a.m. I am in my dermatologist's office, lying on my stomach on a flattened chair/bed thing. I am first poked with three needles to numb the area by the Dr.'s assistant. In truth, they numbed me down to my fingers and all over my back. I could have had my arm amputated yesterday and would not have known it until later. After that, the Dr. comes in and tries to knick it first, to see if it is basically an overgrown zit. Some fluid comes out but it is basically solid.

Then she cuts me and cuts again. As both she and her assistant are pushing on my back to make this evil bastard erupt, all I can think of is that her job sucks. Sucks, I say. Yes, she is making money but essentially making money off popping a big ol'cyst off my back. Ewwww.

It finally pops and they press on me some more. Me, the sick bastard that I am, has to look at the 'results' of this little adventure. Now here is the really gross part: it looks like ricotta cheese. Yes. Ricotta. *blech*

Doc sent off some of my back ricotta to the lab for testing (making sure I'm not cancerous) and then stitches me up. I see her in two more weeks to get the stitches out.

My shoulder hurts today and I feel whiny.

I am okay otherwise. Nothing to report. Work, life, sleep. Repeat.