Call Me Lumpy

So, some time in June or July, I'm not sure which, while I was working nights at the Superstore in Halifax, Janelle discovered a little lump on my leg.

The lump was about the size of a ping pong ball, soft, and painless. It was on my inner thigh, right next to my balls. I wouldn't have noticed it if Janelle hadn't discovered it. For obvious reasons, she was concerned and told me to go to a doctor. I agreed to go, but kept putting it off.

I hate going to the doctor. I always feel like if they can't write me a prescription, I'm wasting their time. Last time I saw a doctor for something other than stitches it was for some kind of outbreak or allergic reaction on my hand and his reaction was something like this: "Well, I don't know what it is, but I could prescribe something for it and we can see what happens." Yeah, like I'm going to take drugs so you can "see what happens." No thanks.

Anyways, we moved to Thunder Bay and I started going to school. Most of the time I wouldn't think about the lump at all but Janelle kept remembering it and telling me to go the doctor. So I googled it, something like "soft, painless lump on leg" and a whole pile of the results said sarcoma, which got me worried enough to see the doctor, so after a little more procrastinating, I made an appointment with the medical clinic at the University. The receptionist asked what the appointment was for and I told her about the lump. She got all concerned and asked if I would like to make an emergency appointment but I declined. The one she'd originally made was soon enough for my taste.

Anyways, I went to my appointment, sat in a brightly lit little room and a nurse asked me about my medical history, and about the lump. And then the doctor came in and asked me some more questions and then asked me to haul off my pants and put on a paper gown, and she left the room. I got into the gown and sat on the examining table, when I leaned forward, though, the front of the gown tore open. How embarrassing.

So the doctor came back in and prodded my lymph nodes. While she was putting her hands in my arm pits I tried to remember if I had remembered to put on deodorant that morning. Then she poked at my groin but couldn't find the lump, so I had to spread my legs and show it to her and she squeezed it and poked it. After examining it for a minute, she said I could get back into my pants and she left the room.

I got dressed as quickly as I could and prepared to leave, but the doctor came back in and said that, at first, she had been concerned but she now believed the lump to be a benign cyst. However, there was a slight chance of lymphoma so she made me a requisition slip for an ultrasound. And that was that, I thanked her and left.

Of course I put off making the ultrasound appointment, but Janelle kept after me, (I think it's just wonderful how she cares so much about me... and no, that's not sarcastic) and I finally called the ultrasound clinic. They made me an appointment that was much too soon for my liking.

Today, I went to that appointment. I walked over after my Cold War History class. After a short wait in the waiting room, the ultrasound person came in. He was a short, bearded man, with shoulder length hair. He looked a lot like my cousin Vince, except shorter. He couldn't be much older than me. Groan.

In his dark little examining room, he was all friendly. "So, where's this lump?"

I pointed to it and he said, "Ok. Get off your pants and lie down on the table."

He got me to tuck a little towel into my underwear so the jelly didn't get all over it, and then he probed my lump with some kind of scanner for what seemed like a really long time, all the while asking questions like, "How long have you had this lump?" "Does it hurt?" "Is this the first test on it?" Which I answered as monosyllabically as possible.

He seemed about as excited about scanning my groin as I was about getting my groin scanned.

Finally he finished, let me wipe the jelly off with the towel that had been tucked into my underwear and I hurried back into my pants, thanked him and said goodbye and practically ran out of the clinic...

Now I'm at home and suffering from post traumatic shock disorder. Just kidding. I'm okay. Okay enough to blog about it, anyway...