Can I Just Say OUCH!
About a month ago I glanced down at my left wrist and did a double take. There was this big…mountain-looking thing sticking up. It looked positively freaky, and I discovered that I was able to use it to gross out small children. Handy little thing.
I pointed it out to someone who said, “Ganglion cyst. I had one once.” Okay, so I googled it, and sure enough that’s what it was. As days went on, it became more tender–enough to keep me from doing the plank pose. Not that I do that more than oh, every three weeks or so. Still. I also couldn’t wear my watch on my left wrist, which for a right-handed person is not good. Certain movements would cause me to wince, so I knew it was time to visit the doctor. I had read enough to know that the most effective way to get rid of a ganglion cyst was to have it surgically removed, followed closely by smashing it with a Bible. Seriously–those things are sometimes called a Bible cyst, because they used to smash them with a heavy book–the good ole family Bible–to rupture them. Last, you could have it drained, but there’s a 50/50 chance of it coming back.
Well, supposedly draining a cyst is the best thing to try first, if you’re into pain and such–although might I say it was not presented this way to me. I could have it done right now! We’ll be done in 5 minutes, and you’ll be on your merry way! So I agreed.
The doctor came in with his freezey-spray stuff and used half a can, until my elbow ached. Yes, my elbow, even though he was spraying my wrist. I don’t get it either. Then he rammed a huge needle into the bump and sucked out this…goo. Looked like (grab your barf-bags, folks) clear jelly. Then he stuck another needle in the former bump and pumped it full of medicine and steroids and such. He gave me a compression band for my wrist and sent me on my merry way.
Only when I got up, I sat right back down, because I realized I was about to faint. Or barf. Or both. Don’t ask my why, but my body responds to trauma by making me nauseated and dizzy. The nurse brought me ice water, a cold wash cloth, and had me lie down on my back. A bit later, I truly was on my not-so-merry way, and by now the site was really getting tender.
Here I am, ten hours, a glass of wine, and several Advil later, and darned if that place isn’t still swollen, bruised and hurts like h-e-hockey sticks. Somebody please tell my why I didn’t just go ahead and schedule a surgery, especially since there’s a 50% chance I’ll end up doing it anyway.
July 10th, 2007 at 9:27 pm
I had one on my wrist once. I remember getting my housemates to smash encyclopedias on it. It hurt like you wouldn’t believe and did not smash. I actually don’t remember what happened to it, must have eventually gone away!
July 11th, 2007 at 9:28 am
I’m right-handed, and I got one of those cysts on my right wrist when I was a kid! Weird, I know. It also had this huge dark mole on it, so they removed both during surgery. I think I was 11 or 12, and surgery scared me. I remember the preacher coming to visit beforehand and THAT scared me even more. But they removed it painlessly (I can’t imagine sitting through your procedure at that young age!) and now all I have is a thin scar. And the mole was benign, thank goodness.
It was cool to have it as a kid, though, b/c I could freak my friends out by moving it around… ;D
July 11th, 2007 at 10:28 am
Wow, ouch. I had a smaller cyst with similar goo drained from my breast about a year ago, with the same chances for surgery. It hasn’t come back, hurray!
July 11th, 2007 at 10:43 am
Oh, I’ve been totally enjoying the freak-out-the-kids factor. I’m juvenile.