The cyst on my upper back slowly grew for probably 30 years. It was never a problem
and couldn't be seen. Then, BAM! It got angry. So angry that it wanted some serious attention. I gave it what it wanted, including a high-powered antibiotic that made my tongue feel as though it were on fire. While I soothed its anger I decided to get revenge on the attention whore. I enlisted an aider and abettor, an infrequently seen ally in the War on Skin Conditions, a helluva nice guy, and a competent physician with a great sense of humor, Jim.
We planned and schemed. "As soon as it's calmed down, bring it by the office", he said, "we'll give it what it deserves". I could hardly wait.
Not only had it angered me, but it began to emit a foul odor. I say foul because even though it smelled like aged Swiss cheese (Jim chose "limburger"), I knew it was not. Oh, yes, it was a type of cheese, but not one I would enjoy with crackers.
On the fateful morning it took less than 25 minutes to get even. I thoroughly enjoyed it, too. By the way, there are six. Stitches. SIX. Don't mess with me. I get very, very serious if you mess with me. Especially if you intentionally cause me harm or make me hurt.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Bad Cyst. Baaaad Cyst. Out damn cyst.
10-27-2008
The cyst on my upper back slowly grew for probably 30 years. It was never a problem
and couldn't be seen. Then, BAM! It got angry. So angry that it wanted some serious attention. I gave it what it wanted, including a high-powered antibiotic that made my tongue feel as though it were on fire. While I soothed its anger I decided to get revenge on the attention whore. I enlisted an aider and abettor, an infrequently seen ally in the War on Skin Conditions, a helluva nice guy, and a competent physician with a great sense of humor, Jim.
We planned and schemed. "As soon as it's calmed down, bring it by the office", he said, "we'll give it what it deserves". I could hardly wait.
Not only had it angered me, but it began to emit a foul odor. I say foul because even though it smelled like aged Swiss cheese (Jim chose "limburger"), I knew it was not. Oh, yes, it was a type of cheese, but not one I would enjoy with crackers.
On the fateful morning it took less than 25 minutes to get even. I thoroughly enjoyed it, too. By the way, there are six. Stitches. SIX. Don't mess with me. I get very, very serious if you mess with me. Especially if you intentionally cause me harm or make me hurt.
The cyst on my upper back slowly grew for probably 30 years. It was never a problem
and couldn't be seen. Then, BAM! It got angry. So angry that it wanted some serious attention. I gave it what it wanted, including a high-powered antibiotic that made my tongue feel as though it were on fire. While I soothed its anger I decided to get revenge on the attention whore. I enlisted an aider and abettor, an infrequently seen ally in the War on Skin Conditions, a helluva nice guy, and a competent physician with a great sense of humor, Jim.
We planned and schemed. "As soon as it's calmed down, bring it by the office", he said, "we'll give it what it deserves". I could hardly wait.
Not only had it angered me, but it began to emit a foul odor. I say foul because even though it smelled like aged Swiss cheese (Jim chose "limburger"), I knew it was not. Oh, yes, it was a type of cheese, but not one I would enjoy with crackers.
On the fateful morning it took less than 25 minutes to get even. I thoroughly enjoyed it, too. By the way, there are six. Stitches. SIX. Don't mess with me. I get very, very serious if you mess with me. Especially if you intentionally cause me harm or make me hurt.
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