When I hit my mid-30s, my life fell apart, at least my body did.
- In May 2006, I had a pilonidal cyst removed from my lower crack, um, back.
- In April, as some of you remember, I had an appendectomy.
- On Monday, I had a ganglion cyst removed on the top of my foot.
The most recent escapade was a marvel of simplicity and efficiency. It took significantly longer to fill out the first-time patient paperwork than it took to apply local anesthetic and squeeze the mucus that had formed in a tight ball on top of my foot. It came out in a perfectly clear goop that sat triumphantly on top of the dermatologist’s index finger, like a transparent turd.
All this fun for an hour of my day and a $20 co-pay.