Round 2 with Dr. Feel Good

July 10th, 2009: Once again I am laying on the table, knowing what was is about to happen before Dr. Feel Good even had a chance legally feel me up…I mean…down. The antibiotics did nothing but reduce my bank account and give me more time to appreciate how great it feels when I am healthy. Now “it,” my abscess, is well into the third trimester, resembling a pink ping pong ball that can’t be played with. If not resolved quickly, this medical issue has the potential to give me the unthinkable…anal stretch marks.

Bringing a different friend this time to translate…I had him pinky swear that he was not going to step from behind the curtain even if the doctor insisted on showing him what was going on. The doctor positioning herself in my back blast area with some sharp instrument – I don’t think it was the hanger I previously imagined, but perhaps a sterile machete or butcher knife…winding up, she impales me – mentally I asked her if that was the best she could do – somehow, she heard me and did it again. Hearing a popping noise, the abortion was officially on its way as “it” leaked on the white linen sheet below me.

I held onto the table as if it was a body board and began to perform some air kicks on the table as I lifted my legs up and down rocking my hips left to right as she squeezed the tender area to fully extract the unwanted debris. My sweat glands were turned on high, as sweat dumped down my face pooling on the vinyl table as I internally scream for help, as verbal cues of pain involuntary leaked into the outer world. Looking over, I can see that the curtain separating the room was doing an exquisite job providing privacy as I see a woman sitting in the corner of the other exam room, staring at me as she takes in oxygen.
Time seemed to once again slow down when all I wanted was it to forget about me.

When the doctor was finished with the procedure, some gauze was placed between my hairy checks and held by some industrial strength medical tape to easily delay me from wanting to prematurely take it off. Now where are the male menstrual pads when you need them? Leaving the doctor’s office, I was gratefully walking normal again…no longer looking as if I was about to transport an enormous amount of products across the border.

Thankfully, I was convinced to go to the doctor office and to not do this myself. It didn’t break my savings account since the first appointment cost me $15.00 and the second one cost me a whopping $5.00 for the procedure. Why can’t it be this cheap in the U.S. to visit a doctor…or even a vet?