Well, the Pussy Pancreas decided to be all shy during the second CAT Scan, and disguise the cyst in some way so that results were inconclusive. (Hai! I R Toiying wid U like a mouse!) However, the trial continues apace, and I have the ophthalmologist and the MRI yet to do tomorrow.
I have a great hate on for this pancreatic cyst, yet it still doesn't even come close being the worst cyst of my life. You know how my family looks to the Discovery Health Channel for consolation when things seem bad? ("Are you feeling sorry for yourself? Yes, okay, but are you a Little Person? No? You could be a Little Person with a cyst, you whiner.") However, I am away from the TV tonight so I cannot console myself with TV shows about Little People Who Have It Worse Than I, or Some Woman Who Evidently Has Twins AND Sextuplets. Instead I will take this moment to remember cysts I have known, including the Worst Cyst of My Life.
Men? Run. If you value the happy little Land of Labia in your mind Bob Guccione has built for you in which all the nethers are pink and perfect, then exit. Women, if you are strong, join the Cysterhood and belly up for ...
The Tale of the Labial Cyst I Had THE Size of A LEMON I Sweartogawd
(Oh, yes. Yes I will go there. At the end of this tale you'll be all, "Oh, yeah, cysts on your pancreas are nothing.")
So one Friday I was taking a class along with my co-workers, and I noticed after noon it was a little uncomfortable to sit. I shifted around for an hour until I took to sitting on my foot and thus elevating my pudenda off the chair. At three o'clock I went to my boss and told him I was taking off for an emergency doctors visit. I did not explain why, even when he asked if I was okay.
Technically, since all the doctors were off that lovely Friday afternoon, I saw the nursing staff. One might have been a nurse practitioner. All I know is they had me assume the position and peered at my mysteries.
"Oh, that's a cyst. Lower Left Quadrant." I don't know if they said "left," but that is where it was, and it had such substance by this time that if they'd said it had hair and teeth and a face I would not have been surprised. They also said something about "Bartholin's Gland."
Now, if you want a very clear image of what was going on down there, you COULD Google "Bartholin's Gland Cyst," then click Images, then never have sex again. I would have given you a link, but I thought Gary might click it on his Blackberry and become impotent immediately. So, in lieu of an image, I'll just say if you somehow had access to my labia, and if you could somehow slide a lemon right under the skin as you do with turkey stuffing, and position the lemon under my labia right by my delicate winking pink anus, then you would get an idea of how it looked.
Hm, you say, how does she know how it looked? Didn't they get rid of it at the doctors office? No, they said, you'll have to wait until Monday when all the doctors are back.
I believe my face said, "Oh hell no I won't. Get this monster off of me. "
She drawled, "If you thought you could, I suppose you could express it yourself." Well. Slap me in the face with the glove. I did indeed believe I could express it myself, thankyou. She recommended a long sit on the couch on top of a heating pad wrapped in a towel. And, sometime Sunday, I was very glad for the towel, because we had a white couch at the time. The "self-expression" lasted only a moment, yet that cyst had been so significant I didn't sit normally for a week due to phantom pain.
Why did I bring this up? I remember on the Barenaked Cruise Message Board I brought this up because men were posting inappropriately to the "Girl Talk" thread and I imagined this might make them go away. Instead, one wag commented, "Why did they say the doctor could express it if it wouldn't be until Monday?" (I remember this in particular because I didn't get that joke for a month. Then when I was standing in line somewhere I thought, "Oh! Express! Ahahahaha")
I remember, that's why I brought it up, I was reviewing evil cysts I have known. Since then, the fruit bowl of my loins has not presented any more lemons, or even any other cysts larger than a mandarin orange segment. I've had one bit of breast gristle, one ovarian cyst the size of a pea, and now this minuscule inconsequential grape of a pancreas cyst. Ha. It's nothing.
See? See how that works?