Removing the Cyst

I don't think I've told you the story of my "sebaceous cyst" that wasn't.

It begins around 1993, after a miniature show. I was alone in a parking garage loading up our car to return home. As I put stuff in the backseat, I leaned up too quickly and hit my left temple against the door frame. After the initial hit and reaction to how much it hurt, I promptly forgot about it. I was busy, we were taking company home with us, and I didn't give it another thought.

The next morning I noticed a bump on my right temple. It kind of hurt, but I didn't remember where it had come from. At school, I dropped in on the nurse and told her it seemed a little larger than it had been and more solid and asked her what she thought it might be.

"Sounds like a sebaceous cyst," she said. "You might want to check with your doctor about it."

So I made an appointment and got in the next day to see him. He agreed with the nurse's diagnosis and told me I should come back in a week and he would drain it. Then he told me to put warm compresses on it every day--as warm as I could stand.

Well, the week went by and the cyst seemed very pronounced and hard, so I conscientiously applied the heat to it. After a week I returned to the doctor's. He said we could do the removal in the office with just a little local anathestic since it was simple procedure--not even an operation. I lay down on my side, he gave me the shot and he cut open the cyst.

I didn't like his sudden intake of air nor his "uh-oh." [Long pause.]

"Did you hit your head recently?" he asked.

"I think I did," remembering the incident in the parking garage.

"I thought so," he said. "This is a blood clot... not a cyst."

He quickly began removing whatever he had to remove and then sewed me back up.

When I told the nurse the story the next day, she blanched. "Heat is the worse thing you could do for a blood clot," she cautioned. "It could cause the blood clot to travel to the heart."

I determined right then that my guardian angel had worked dilligently during the week.