The Thing On My Face

When I was in high school, I had nearly flawless skin. Like, maybe 3 or 4 noticeable pimples in four years. After Trey was born, my hormones went crazy and I started getting acne. Not just small pimples, but giant red things as well. I didn't get the giant red things very often, maybe two or three times a year, and I took care of them at home.

A pimple sprung up a couple of months ago, and I didn't think much of it. "Aunt Flow" was due to visit a couple of days later, so I chalked it up to that and went about my business. 6 weeks later, I woke up one morning and the thing was freakin' huge. Like, the size of a marble. I didn't try to pop it or anything like that, so I just slathered it with salicyclic acid zit remover stuff in a tube I had here at the house. It didn't go away, but it didn't get bigger either.

My parents started riding my ass to get it looked at by a doctor, claiming it could be an ingrown hair, a boil, or something even ickier. I blew them off at first, but...this past Saturday, they rode my ass and dug in with spurs. I thought about how cancer runs in my family - my dad's sister, my mom's dad, and a few not so closely related relatives - and I got scared. I told them I would call my doc on Monday. Last night, I told my husband I wanted to go to the emergency care facility (aka Doc in a Box) to get the big nasty looked at. I asked him to drive me there this morning, and he agreed.

Now, I'm a wuss when it comes to pain. I gave birth without any pain killing drugs, and I got my belly button pierced while stone-cold sober, but I'm really a wuss. I hate needles. They terrify me to the point of throwing up. I freaked out when I had to have cortisone shots IN MY NOSE a few years ago, so I haven't been to the ENT doctor since.

The doctor who treated me this morning was the same one who diagnosed Trey with the pig flu back in October, and he's a nice guy. The dude is probably around my dad's age (early 60's) and very grandfatherly. He told me I had an abscessed cyst on my face, took Ryan and I into a treatment room, and began to prepare the necessary tools. I thought I would be nice and warn Dr. Papaw of my aversion to needles. While I was doing so, he stuck the needle filled with a local anesthesia into my face. Cool trick, Dr. Papaw!

I won't go into gory detail about the procedure, but it was gross. Let's just say it felt like a dam bursting when he opened up The Big Nasty. 20 minutes later, Ryan and I were on our way to get some breakfast. Breakfast was hilarious. I couldn't open my mouth very far without breaking the incision open, and kept dropping my biscuits and gravy on my Notre Dame hoodie. I was starving, and I had to take small bites and eat slowly. That pissed me off.

The local anesthetic wore off a couple of hours ago, and the incision doesn't feel so good right now. I'm eating Tylenol like it's going out of style and wearing a huge gauze & tape bandage on the lower right hand side of my face. Trey is gonna freak when he gets home from school in an hour, and probably not let me out of his sight for the rest of the evening.

I'll get to the point now: If there's something wrong, no matter how insignificant it seems, GET YOURSELF TO A DOCTOR! My big nasty zit could have turned into something much, much worse if I put it off longer than I did. By something worse, I mean it could have ruptured on it's own (which would have been excruciating pain), got bigger, or it could have given me blood poisoning. I know not many (if any) people read my blog, but I like the ones who do. Please stick around a little longer, m'kay?