It’s raining Pus, Hallelujah!

OK, I admit I haven’t posted a blog to here in a long while. But, I felt obliged to share an experience with the world in hopes of helping you out in the future.

The last few weeks I’ve been slowly making my way from the Eastern Seaboard to the Southwest, with plenty of stops along the way. From New York City to Albuquerque, N.M., I drove 3200 miles in a period of two weeks. Whether it be the long days on the road, or whatever. I started to notice a pea-sized lump emanating under my skin near my left inguinal region — upper inside thigh adjacent to my nutsack.

I thought a pimple? Who knows? It could happen, right? As the days progressed, the lump grew to the size of a Robin egg. What the hell, I thought? I’m I getting a hernia?

Five days after its genesis, the lump was now larger than an egg. A bonafide Grade AA Medium F-ing Egg. I was walking bowlegged at this point, with skin chaffing that left a quarter-sized fleshy wound drying in the air. The skin-deep wound still held a pressurized lump of festering pus, but it was not leaking at this point.

It was called a sebacious cyst, likely caused by an ingrown hair that blocked the follicle and caused an infection. Who would have thunk? 1600 miles and nine days earlier, I was listening the the Jason Ellis Show on Sirius Faction, and he had one of his assistants try to gouge a cyst similar to this off his shoulder. Until that point, I never heard of such a thing… and lo and behold, now I have one! WTF!

Now the good part.

When I felt my junk down there, it felt like I had triple testicles. No shit! The climax of this event finally happened on a Sunday afternoon while I sat listening to one of the most glorious piece of music I have ever heard: Ludwig von Beethoven’s Missa Solemnis. During the rigorous and musically tempestic Third Movement of the masterpiece, the pus ballon bursted. Thank God I had swaths of gauze in place, or it would have looked like I pissed and shit diarhhea all over myself at the same time. Seriously, if it didn’t pop by after the concert, my next stop was University Hospital ER.

In hindsight, I felt like I just had a wet dream…. I thought Missa Solemnis, in all its glory, made me splooge my pants. Afterall, the music did move me to teary eyes, shuddering spine and uncontrollable emotion… so I thought it possible…

Nope, it was just my growth — my cyst — rupturing and splooging forth oils, pus, blood and some dark matter. THANKFULLY, I wore extra gauze that day to soak it up.  In retrospect, I should have just brought a heavy days Maxi Pad with Wings (r) and slapped that bitch on there.

Anyway, the pressure was relieved greatly, and I finally could make it to a doctor’s appointment on Monday.

The next day, the doctor injected numbing stuff around the inflammed half-dollar sized deflated fleshy area to numb the area — oh man, that fucking killed!!!  Then he cleaned the wound, pushed more gunk out of the cyst, and stuck a bunch of dressing — which is a 3 mm thin strip of gauze — through the tiny pus hole (the size of the head of a needle) into the breeding chamber of this pustule. He remarked “you’ve got a gaping hole in there.” Hmmm?! Let me stick my pinky up your peehole and see if that’s gaping…

When he bandaged the whole area up, I swear the exam bed and crisp sheet underneath my bottom was soaked with yellow and red liquid with scattered chunky flesh-matter. It looked like someone dumped a quart of Canola Oil on the bed, with meaty aftermath. That’s how much liquid was there….. Because the stirups were still engaged in position, if some random person walked in and saw that junk on the bed, he or she would have thought an abortion was just performed — and the dead embryo was still lying there in effegy.

I had nightmares that night of my left ball rolling out through the hole and me holding it in hand running to the ER.

The next day, I went back to the doc’s office where I did anticipated the removal of gauze from the sweat-gland sized about .5mm wide without local anethetic. I thought I was prepared with 1500 mg of Tylenol. That shit did not help one bit!

As I sat in a supine position, legs spreadeagle… the doc remarked, “ahh, this is going to hurt.”  silence. “I’m so sorry.” Then he ripped the bandage tape off… I yelped. Then thought “that wasn’t so bad. Whew!”

Nope. The next five minutes of my life was probably the most intense pain that I’ve ever felt as he pulled about two feet of sterile dressing that was now gunked with pus, blood and other visceral fluid out of my body through a minuscule hole. I was grunting, gnashing my teeth, clenching my fist — I looked down to see a long strand of the beastly rope in the air; and nearly passed out.

<Massive expletives here>

So, today, the wound has just about stopped draining, but I still have to keep bandage on it. I can probably place a big ass Band-aid on it now.

Well… Time for dinner. Anyone up for Spaghettii or Pus-soaked Fettucine? (Add Parmesan, it’s all the same.)

Note:  Anyone want to see a picture?

Published in: on March 26, 2009 at 7:00 am  Leave a Comment