Ugh, I’m in a slight amount of pain every time I get up to move. It comes in waves, but the point is it’s there. This all could have been avoided.
I will quietly admit that I should have listened to my dear husband when he told me to go in to see the doc.
Shh! We won’t tell!
I acquired a nasty skin infection on my right hip. A blemish gone wrong, to put it nicely. This beauty had to be lanced and drained. It was pretty gnarly.
The pain from this “blemish” was so painful over the weekend, I had to lower the waistband on my shorts so it would not sit on my booboo. (
I’m on the fence about sharing these pics. I wouldn’t want to lose any readers over it. Haha! Just know that it is an eyesore to say the least.
(I was nice and kept it PG)
I went in for the repacking of this open wound, today. What you see above is pretty much how I felt about it. I was feeling pretty anxious about the pain. Me. A girl with 11 tattoos, having birthed 4 babies, etc. Yes, I was scared.
|I watched the nurse prep; everything was sterile!|
I’ve never had surgery or outpatient surgery before this. I had no idea how an incision is supposed to feel as it healed. When I left the doc’s office on Monday, I got 3/4 of the way home and thought I was going to fall apart at the wheel. The pain – oh it was excruciating! The Lidocaine was wearing off and I was in tears!
Today, I was afraid of the doc touching it. When he started, it was horrible. He pulled out the sterile packing like he was unwrapping gifts on Christmas morning. Gauze flew out of there!
The wound was washed it out with saline, and he pushed on it a bit (shuddering here), and then dropped some Lidocaine into the gaping hole that was my wound.
The Lidocaine hardly worked. I thought I was going to pass out. He re-packed the hole and that was so painful. I imagine that is what it feels like when they put whiskey into a gunshot wound in an attempt to sterilize, then give the person a swig.
I have it all wrong, don’t I? Maybe I needed whiskey.
I started to question my level of pain tolerance as I was laying there studying the ceiling tiles.
It’s more of a matter of what I choose to have done, than what must happen for health purposes.
Tattoos, for example. I want those so that pain is acceptable.
Giving birth. Well, we don’t need to state the obvious here. What goes in has to turn into a beautiful living being and be shoved down and out of the birth canal.
What I’m saying is that when I know that I’m choosing to have something happen to me and pain is inevitable, I am okay with it. It’s a mental thing. I prepare myself and it’s all good.
This ordeal was not “all good.”
And I put off seeing the doc until Monday.
It is not for lack of trying. I did try to make an appointment for myself. It didn’t happen and I surely did not want my weekend ruined by this.
Well! The pain was enough to bring me to tears as I hugged my friends good-bye on Sunday.
This morning, my wound was all bandaged up like this. I snapped this picture right before the doc took the bandages off. I mentioned earlier that I’m keeping it PG here, so I’ll keep the bloody open wound pics to myself.
Moral of my story: It may look like a blemish, but don’t be fooled. If it hurts badly enough to make you want to cry, take your butt into the doc’s office or the ER. You’ll get antibiotics, and avoid this mess altogether.
I wonder if the scar will at least look cool though…