Minor Surgery

I should also mention that I am currently writing with a giant band-aid on the side of my face, and it hurts a little when I laugh at my own jokes. I had my first experience at a local clinic today. A cyst next to my eye had been steadily growing for the last eight months, and it really got to the point that 1) I didn’t want to stand to the left of anyone during a conversation because that’s all they would see, and 2) it’s all I could see. I had the peripheral vision of a city carriage horse. And people here are very direct – I can’t count the number of times people asked what happened to my face. The school director made an appointment for me at a clinic, and for 27 dollars they removed my small tumor. I walked into the waiting room, clearly the center of attention. The director explained the problem to everyone - I guess it was important to answer all of the questions for the public - and we waited. I told her she could go back to the school if she needed to, but she insisted on staying (and I was glad) because she needed to sign papers as a witness. Always need a witness. Yikes.
We went into a small room, where she actually ended up holding the light for the procedure (a dual purpose for the witness). My legs dangled off the edge of the surgery bed, and they taped a small piece of gauze to my forehead and cheek. I made sure they would, in fact, numb the area before cutting. The doctor said, “Yes, a little pain, but okay.” I immediately received five shots next to my eye – and I’m not so sure that numbing the area was the better option. It felt like wasps attacked my socket - that's a tender spot! But within minutes, the area was numb, and I could only feel the pressure of the doctor wringing my face like a towel. He could speak English, so kept me updated on the process, but I couldn’t see anything. When he got to stitching me up, he asked me if I felt pain. At first, no. Then I jumped, and said, “Yes – pain.”
“Oh, sorry.” He kept going.
Again, “ Yep – pain. I feel pain.”
“Sorry.” (Like you say sorry when you play the boardgame and send someone back to the beginning).
He said, “Maybe bruise for two or three days, but no problem.”
When he was finished, he was excited to show me what he removed (I know that’s gross, but I wanted to see, too)… but he couldn’t find it. He sorted through bloody squares of gauze, then lifted the tray. He looked on the floor. Nothing. I started laughing. My director showed me how big the cyst was by indicating the size on her finger, and the doctor continued to search.
“Maybe it fall behind the bed,” he said. “It fly away.”
Hilarious. I have no idea where the contents of a gland would go, but I hope they cleaned the room before the next patient arrived.
So it really feels like I was punched in the face, but I’m happy to have that thing gone.