Abscess from Hell

My boss had surgery recently. This was his first time in the hospital and true to his nature, he was kind of excited about the adventure. Having never been put to sleep nor gone through any of this process, this is all new to him.

Well… I don’t like to admit what happens to me when I get put to sleep! Let’s just say ‘another me’ comes out.

So, as usual, I had a story to tell him. This took place about 12 years ago. I remember it well… for many reasons, as you are soon to find out.

I was working as a Team Lead on a help desk here in town. They were a great group of folks, though junior in age to me, and we got along well.

Day 1 – I noticed that sitting was a little uncomfortable. I didn’t think much about it on day 1 and was more concerned about my now, ex-wife, who at the time was 7 months pregnant. The world revolved around that. But as the day wore on, it actually started to hurt a little and I found myself squirming in my chair from discomfort. Sorta like the sitting version of the Marcrana. I got home and went for an inspection tour of my posterior parts, and found a lump, bump, or something. I thought it was a monster zit and it had to go. Man was I wrong, trying to pop that bad boy. It had teeth! So, it won the battle, time to leave ‘mother rattler’ alone and let nature take it’s course.

Day 2 – Not feeling real well. Sorta felt sick, went to work and was to the point of favoring one cheek while sitting. Sorta like a torpedo in the side of a ship, listing away from the ‘action’. I spent the day, pretty much not happy, ill as a hornet, with the ‘mother rattler’ letting me have it. (I also stopped eating). Big deal for a southern boy. Got home, went for my inspection tour, found that my addition was adding a room, or two! The pain was non-stop so it was off to the doctor on the next day.

Day 3 – “Jeff, you are running a low grade temp and the extra arm you are trying to grow out your back side is an Abscess.”

“What’s that… other than a 24 hour/day hot poker in my back side?” I asked.

My doctor seem to be enjoying my pain. “Think of it as a big zit, and Kennon… don’t try to pop it!” I can’t imagine why he said that. “Okay, what’s the plan Hanable, you always have a plan.” (The A Team)

“Well, two things… you give it 24 hours and see if your body absorbs it, or it bursts. (Great). If not, then we send you to a specialist.” I was thinking who would specialize in something like this. “I see the look in your eyes Kennon,” said the Doctor… “it’s called a Proctologist.”

“Yea, okay thanks…” and out the door I went, slowly, feeling like it was me and my third arm dragging along.

Day 4 – Temp 102 – I called the doctor in miserable shape. The pain had kept me up all night, I was not a happy camper and this was turning into a most embarrassing kind of problem.  My GP said he had called ahead and the ‘specialist’ could see me today at 11 am. I got to the office in such pain I was to tears. I did notice however that on every wall, there were cartoons about butt jokes. “This seems to be a bit of a odd doctor’s office,” I said to my wife.

No comment.

They put me in a room with a table. I was red eyed, sitting sideways like the ship was about to go down, when the door flew open and a large, perky, happy nurse walked in. She said in a patronising motherly way, “So Mr. Kennon, not feeling well are we? Well, let’s talk about what’s going on.”

I explained to her what had been going on the last 3 days. She listened, took notes, smiled, listened more as if she was in another world. I finally said, “Please, you’ve got to do something, whatever it takes, please do it.”

She laughed… really… laughed. “Okay Mr. Kennon, well, you might not be glad you said that in a few minutes.” Then she got up and walked out…

… and laughed.

I was moved to another room, given instructions from the funny nurse from hell, to disrobe and lay down sideways on the table with my post-parts facing the opposite side of the room. I complied and had a sheet draped across me, like an old piece of furniture in an abandoned house.Two minutes later in walks the doctor wearing what looked like a hazmat outfit with ‘happy nurse’ right behind him. He introduced himself, walked around sat down and was eye level with my arm (butt). ‘Happy Nurse’ went to the front side of me to reach over, me to my utter shock, grabbed my back side and pulled one half up like pulling carpet up or a trap door. She actually patted me…for real.

And laughed…

I felt the doctor probe and then ‘Neil Armstrong’,having returned from the dark side of the moon, is in my face telling me that I have a Abscess. ‘Well, thanks Sherlock, I know’…(I didn’t tell him that.)

“You have two options here.

1 – We numb you up, since you are already here, we lance and purge (two things I didn’t really put together in my head at the moment, or

2 – Go to surgery tomorrow and do a outpatient surgical procedure.”

I was so miserable and the pain was so bad… “Let’s do this now Doctor,” and with that Neil disappeared back to the dark side of the moon.

Couple of things here. One, I really wasn’t thinking straight. Lance and Purge could be the names of his puppies for all I knew. Secondly when a doctor says anything about ‘numbing’ you need to pay attention.

Numbing in my case meant, as the doctor said, “you are going to feel 3 to 4 little bee stings… reality was… Neil back there on the dark side of the moon was drilling for something because it wasn’t a bee sting. More like ‘rattler’s gone wild’.

I screamed like a school age boy. I am sure, if you could pinpoint where you were at that moment, some 12 years ago, and had the thought to be totally silent, no matter what state or country you were in, you would have heard me scream.

Then…

Let’s talk about his friends ‘Lance and Purge’. They are not friends in fact they are little horror stories in their own right. ‘Lance showed up in a scalpel the size of something Crocodile Dundee carried and in one, pinching swip he cut my ‘arm’ open!

Another scream me… happy nurse laughed.

Then the squeeze, squeeze, squeeze till ‘little Neil’ was all tuckered out. I had no scream left but there was immediate relief like I didn’t think possible. Of course, now, after the fact, the numbing stuff was working. In 10 minutes I was ready to literally ‘dance with the fat lady’.

It was home for me and sleep like a baby. Till I woke up at 4 am, temp climbing realizing it was going to need surgery.

This part is nothing… well, except humiliation. “Mr. Kennon, what brings you to Rex today?” How else do you say it? “They are going to cut on my butt”. I was despondent and miserable.

“Oh dear, well I hope that goes well” …over and over ‘till it felt like EVERYONE at Rex would look at me, then sorta stare down as if they were looking for the reason why!

So to sleep, to cut, wake up, go home with a bag of goodies and instructions from one of the most misunderstood doctors of my life. (Who grows up wanting to be a proctologist?)

My instructions were the hard part. See, I basically had two holes in my back side and was to check the new one multiple times a day. So, a shout out to you ladies, with all of the stuff you carry with you to the ladies room, I bow in respect and honor. Having a small medkit every day is a drag. I had a mirror, flashlight and ointments if needed.

So back to work the next day with my bag of goodies. I was dreading this whole ‘inspection tour’ thing I had to do, but you know, you gotta do what you gotta do.

So I am hiding in the stall at work, trying to find a time when no one else is in the men’s room, for my 400 candlewatt light and dollar tree mirror to get into action.

I assumed the position, so I could hold the mirror with one hand, between my legs and then point the flash light with the other hand in just such a manner that I would put light on the dark side of the moon.

The world is lit up when ‘bam’ the bathroom door opens! I shut off goes the light and got very quiet. I didn’t want anyone to know what was going on and I didn’t think anyone would would believe me, anyway.

So, one of my good friends comes in sits down and calmly says “Hey Kennon, what’s up?

How is the world did he know it was me? I answered, in what I thought was a nonchalant voice, “I’m cool. You good today?”

He was just starting to answer me when …I dropped my flashlight by accident, which proceed to roll under my stall wall, into his stall.

“Kennon what the @#$# is going on over there. What are you doing?”

How to explain this to Tom? I did try, and I asked him not to say anything to anyone one. To which he promised, then left and promptly broke that promise the second he walked out the door. The ladies on my team started asking me about my ‘goodie’ bag and the guys wanted to know how big my flashlight was.

Is there a moral… Got no idea…

Have a great week!