Haircuts, Humiliation, and Hospitals

I actually published this in September, but due to a glitch (me messing up) it’s now listed as being posted in October. Take my word for it that this was September’s post, please! 

My parents and I are currently busing gearing up for a house move, and as a result I’ve been spending nearly all my energy on sorting through boxes of things to ensure I’m only bringing what I actually want along to the new house. So I decided that for this month’s post, I’d switch things up a bit and share a story about 12 of the wildest hours of my life.

This is a story about a cyst. If you are grossed out by the very thought of a cyst, you might want to turn back now. I won’t be adding any hugely graphic details, because I myself am very squeamish, but the cyst is rather integral to the story. So grab a cuppa and get comfortable while I tell you this tale.

I’ve had cysts before. I get them on my inner thigh, but up until this point it had only ever been on my right leg. Usually they’re small and go away on their own within a few days, so I don’t pay much attention to them. This time, though, it started to become sore. Over the course of a few days, it started to get more painful, and it became red and inflamed. I kept a close eye on it, and I took pictures on my phone to monitor and compare whether or not it was getting worse.

It was a Thursday, and I had a haircut booked. I did consider whether or not I should cancel it to try and see a doctor - but I wouldn’t be able to get a haircut for another month if I cancelled, and I was confident I would be fine for another day. (Priorities, am I right?) The hairdresser arrived at the house, I got sat down in a chair in the kitchen, and we started to discuss what I wanted done. I’d planned ahead (for once) and had several images on my phone ready to show. (You may be able to see where this is going, but just wait…) I showed the pictures, but there was one I was looking for in particular that I couldn’t find. I zoomed out onto the photo gallery on my phone, forgetting that the images of the cyst were right there.

If it was obvious that it was an image of a cyst, I might not have been so embarrassed. The thing is, though, that it didn’t look like a cyst in the picture. There was a large round pink area, with a small dark pink bump sticking up in the middle. The swelling in combination with the fat on my thighs gave the skin around the bump a very spherical looking shape. Basically, it looked like a boob. 

So there I was, pretty sure my hairdresser thought they'd just seen a picture of my breast. I was way too embarrassed to explain the truth, so I said nothing and we proceeded with the haircut as if nothing happened. I felt like somehow, explaining that I had a cyst on my inner thigh was... more embarrassing than letting them think it was a nude pic? After the haircut, I told my mother what happened, and she laughed her head off. I hoped that maybe if I showed her the pic she'd console me, saying, "Oh honey, you worry too much!". Instead, her response was, "Yeah, it's hard to see how that's not a boob." That was reassuring.

I went about the rest of my day as normal - albeit, in a significant amount more discomfort than usual. My parents and I had agreed that we would phone the doctor's surgery first thing in the morning to make an appointment to get my cyst checked out. Come bedtime, my parents were off to bed while I was still getting myself ready. I was keeping a close eye on my cyst, as the swelling seemed to be getting progressively worse. At around midnight, I noticed something alarming. I saw what appeared to be a red line going away from the swollen area. If any of you have ever been on the lookout for warning signs of sepsis, that is one of them. I have a very weak immune system, and I'm always nervous about taking chances with my health. So I dashed - well, I did the chronic fatigue equivalent of dashing - to wake my parents up, and we phoned NHS24.

In case you're not from the UK, I'll briefly explain NHS24. It's a 24-hour medical advice service. You basically phone to get an immediate assessment of how severe your situation is, and they'll tell you what the best course of action is - going to the emergency room, going to an out of hours doctor, waiting till the next morning to go to see your doctor, or just going to the pharmacy. Ok, now that we're all on the same page I can continue with the story.

I phoned NHS24 at around 12:30AM, and within the hour my parents and I were on our way to an out of hours doctor. I'd packed a bag of things to keep me occupied, fully expecting at least an hour's wait. By some absolute MIRACLE, I was seen immediately. I'd barely sat down before they called my name. I went in to see the doctor - he took one look at my cyst and said, "Yeah, that's infected.". He checked me over for signs of a viral infection (aka sepsis) and gave me the all-clear for that. I was sent home with a couple doses of antibiotics to take that night, and a prescription to fill the next day. I'd never been more relieved to have an infected cyst, because it's a hell of a lot less scary than sepsis.

The whole round trip took about an hour, which is nothing short of incredible. It did kind of confirm my theory that the NHS is really designed for emergency care, rather than long-term condition treatment and symptom management. Nevertheless, I was very grateful to have both had access to that care for free, and that things weren't any worse.

I'm not sure if there's a moral to this story. Maybe it's that if you have a cyst that looks like a boob, you should probably seek medical attention ASAP. Or that if you have a cyst that looks like a boob, you shouldn't keep pictures of it on your camera roll if you're going to be showing people photos from your phone. Or maybe, the moral of the story is to embrace ridiculous things that happens to you because they'll make a good blog post.

I hope you're all doing well. I apologise if any of you saw the very short draft post I accidentally published a couple of weeks ago! I'm still working on that one and will probably put out a finished version in the next few months.

Love and hugs,

Isabel xo