Cystfully yours

As cyst pictures are too gross, here are some cute animals instead!

A friend of mine has discovered a lump on her neck which she is concerned about. Her mother calls it a "neck bunion" which delights me no end. Our mutual friend alerted her the fact that I had recently dealt with a sebaceous cyst on my head, so she messaged me seeking, advice, comfort and pep. Here's what I wrote...

Oh it is SO okay to talk about my cyst! I'm happy to talk about it to anyone willing to listen and even some who aren't.

So my famous "lump" appeared perhaps 6-7 years ago on top of my head, a little to one side and visible to no-one. I was mildly concerned but my mum and Gregg insisted I get it checked out. I think I forgot to get it checked for a long time just because it was just there and never bothered me except for the fact that it grew/grows pube type hairs from that spot. I would be happy to put one in the mail for you with a guarantee that it's from my head.

So anyway, I had it checked out and the doctor said it was a sebaceous cyst which forms when a pore gets blocked. He said it was nothing to worry about unless it got bigger or if it hurt. He said to remove it, it would have to be cut open and pulled out (not drained like I'd hoped) which made me quite fearful of the whole process. Given my fear of needles, I was glad I could ignore it. I went on with no pain or growth, but after a couple of years, my mum and Gregg insisted it was bigger and that I should get it checked again. Again, the doctor said it was fine and not to worry about it.

This is Yakini, my beloved gorilla at the Melbourne Zoo.

Finally, a few more years passed, I was tired of it. Maybe it had grown and was in my way more, or maybe I was just suddenly more aware of it. It was always in the way if I would try to rest my head on a wall or sleep on a plane window on my left side. My head would just sort of roll on the nut and I had choose a less comfortable tilt of the head to work around it. I was going to get it out last year while in Australia, but I went into the doctor with not enough time before I left the country again for the cyst removal and subsequent stitch removal. In the following months, I went a bit mad and once tried to pop it with a pin (which I later read you SO shouldn't do). I knew Gregg wouldn't approve of this so my attempt occurred one night when I was home alone. I revealed this indiscretion at a tiki bar while intoxicated and as predicted, he was very annoyed at me, looking aghast while I told our friends. Another symptom of my frenzy, hereby known as "lump fever" was the time I plucked out all the pube hairs and left a small bald patch over the lump. My next trip to the hairdresser was a bit embarassing as he thumped my bald patch with his finger and asked what was going on.

So, when I went to Australia this past January, I sucked it up and booked the double appointment to get the cyst removed. I was so scared that I screamed at my mum because I told her not to book it until after my birthday because I didn't want to be thinking about it coming up and being unhappy. She went ahead an booked it anyway for AFTER my birthday but told me about it before which is exactly what I told her I did not want. She's a bit demented like that. I just knew I would be scared the whole time leading up to it so I didn't want a time set, so I went nuts at her and made her cancel it. After my birthday was over, I booked my own appointment.

When the big day came, I was quite terrified but calmer than I thought. I asked the doctor about liquid stitches I'd heard about on TV and he said that was rubbish and that I should chill out. I warned him I might cry and he said that he thought HE might cry and then I laughed and was marginally happier. When he approached with the needle to numb it, I started hyperventilating as I do when needles approach but with a quick nick, that portion was over with and numb. The doctor came back five minutes later to start cutting and I got all scared again but what he was doing just felt like a little scrape! It was completely fine and I wasn't at all bothered by it. He then pulled the lump out with a tweezer thing and showed me the little white egg I had grown. Steph told me it would be like an egg and she was right! I was quite impressed by it! It was probably about 1/2"/1cm long. He then put the cyst in a jar, stitched me up which didn't bother me at all and then it was all over. I was most afraid of the stitches but they were no sweat and I later remarked that I could have that procedure done to me all day! The doctor said he was taking my lump to pathology just to confirm it was a benign cyst and after he rounded the corner with it I called him back for one last look. If I could have kept my little egg, I would have.

So everything was fine and didn't hurt. He gave me some antibiotics that could mix with alcohol (he was so thoughtful because I didn't ask!) and I was on my way. As the anaesthetic wore off several hours later, it started to hurt, but I just got really drunk that night and hardly noticed it. I went back in a week and got my stitches removed and that was the absolute end of it. I wasn't keen on that final procedure, but again it wasn't much of anything.

I was worried the whole thing would cost about $300 but it only cost $60! I thought I had to pay for the return visit to remove the stitches but that was included! I then got the $80 bill from pathology and I went to pay that but that was covered by Medicare! And my antibiotics were only $6! You can see why I waited to go back to Australia to get it taken care of!

So that's my story. I hope it makes dealing with a sebaceous cyst sound like a barrel of fun. I really wouldn't be afraid to have it done again and now when I sit on the left hand side of planes, I roll my head against the wall like a loving cat.

THE END

*NOTE* The title "Cystfully yours" was how my friend signed her email in response to this message.

***UPDATE*** I am happy to add that my friend has reported "Guess who's benign and feeling fine?" She looks forward to her procedure on August 6th.

Trials and tribulations in blood donation

B.B. The Blood Drop

When my friend Dan and I were 17, he expressed a great interest in donating blood. Dan and I made frequent trips into the city (we lived an hour out of downtown Melbourne) but this one time, Dan expressed that he had done a bunch of research and planned to give blood this day. I admired his decision and we planned to head over to the blood bank on Collins Street after doing our usual round of record stores. As the day wore on, Dan got antsy to get to the blood bank. We headed down there, only to find after the arduous walk to the arse end of town that the bank closed at some stupid hour like 3 or 4pm. Whatever the case, we had missed it. We left and Dan was very cranky about not being about to donate blood. Gosh, I couldn't believe he wanted to give blood so badly! What a sweetheart, even if he wore stupid silky goth shirts and red lipstick that he was too embarrassed to buy on his own. It was nice to see he was as dedicated to this little cause as he was to his fussing about his goth appearance with clothes and cosmetics.

Some goth kids, much like Dan's crew at the time.

Not long after, while I was not with him, he told me he had made another attempt to donate blood, this time arriving during business hours only to be told that as he was under 18, he required written consent from his parents. Foiled again!

Finally, on a third trip, Dan made it there, during business hours, with the parental slip. It was finally going to happen. The person tending to him pricked his finger for a mere sample, but Dan fainted. After they roused him, he was put in a wheelchair and given a donut. No blood was given and it seemed as though he could not handle it as he shared my belonephobia (fear of needles) so blood donation was quite out of the question altogether.

Poor Dan. After all his gallant efforts, he simply couldn't go through with the procedure. After this incident, while attending a stage version of Trainspotting, Dan fainted in his seat as one of the actors described in detail the injecting of a needle. Holy crap! He was worse than me!

So Dan and I are now 30 and over the years since his fateful trip to the blood bank, I have told the story many times, always with a swell in my heart for his good intentions.

In that time, my own fear of needles has increased. It already existed at that time, but I think it has only gotten worse. I've required a few blood samples and shots in that time, and all have resulted in hyperventilating, and on one occasion, crying. If I am told I need a blood test I ask it be done immediately as the anticipation for it makes me crazy. When I was in year 8, my friend who was two years older got a tetanus shot at school. I feared this shot for two whole years, so by the time I was in year 10 and everyone my age was getting the shot, I dodged the co-ordinated who hunted me down for my permission slip (which I had not given to my parents) and on the day of the needle I stayed behind in the graphics room with the daft Mr. C who was too clueless to question why I was the only one not going for the needle. I wish I was as smart as Kristen who wisely got her slip signed, but then crossed out the needle part and only got the oral sabin against polio. I was willing to risk polio to not have that needle.

Dan's donation attempt always inspired me, but I knew I just couldn't do it. I then set about encouraging others who do not fear needles to donate blood. I felt that in doing so, I was doing my bit. I had been nagging at my sister for some time, since she actually stares at the whole injecting process with much delight, to go and donate blood. She was keen, and after a few years of urging, she finally got around to it and I believe she has now done so twice. I was once at a party and got talking to my friend's mum who is a blood bank nurse. I told her my whole scheme of encouraging others since I was too fearful myself and asked her what she thought. To my delight she was 100% behind my plan and told me how frustrating it is dealing with people like me who freak out and that's it's more trouble than it's worth. She also looked at my veins and deemed them crappy and hard to find, further supporting my reasons not to personally give blood. Once I got this vindication from the blood bank nurse, I proceeded about my business of badgering others.

This could be yours if The Prick is Right!

I've not really badgered too many, mainly my sister, so I urge you now, if you are not afraid of needles, please give blood! From what I just read on Wikipedia, blood banks struggle to keep a three day supply for day to day blood transfusions. If you can go in there, suck it up and give blood without a fuss, please do it!

In the USA, head to The American Red Cross site, or in Australia, the Australian Red Cross. Anywhere else, just bloody Google it yourself.

Back to Dan, as I said, I've been telling his sad story for 13 years now. Dan and his girlfriend were visiting Gregg and I in LA a couple of months ago and I thought it only right to fill Geri in on one of my favourite Dan stories. I got through the whole thing as I have told you after which point Dan added a footnote to the story which I never knew about my former goth friend,

"You know, the only reason I was doing it was because I thought it would make me pale."