Hand Surgeon To The Rescue?

 The weather is dull, gray drizzling and cold. My back hurts, my knee hurts and my right hand is throbbing. Arthritis? Yes, but add to that a ganglion cyst atop my hand that constantly hurts. So much so that writing this is painful. I thought about my options while in the office of my primary care giver. I decided that I could live with the pain, at that particular time it was not so bad.

Things have changed. It looks like a lump that is filled with fluid. It does not move around, and I find that a little disturbing. I watch Dr. Pimple Popper, and she is always hesitant to remove bumps that are not mobile. The reason being that the growth could be tangled in delicate body parts.

I remember when I was cleaning up some leftover pieces of lumber in my back yard. My husband had attempted to build a doghouse under a fort. This was some time ago, when we had children to play in a fort with a swing set attached. Though it was not too unsightly, the Saint Bernard refused to enter it despite all my efforts. It was roomy and I sat in it for nearly an hour and tried to coax her in. She stood out of my reach and watched me. I swear she was laughing at me.

But, as usual, the man made no effort to pick up the scraps or the tools. I grabbed a treated piece of 2X4 that was about 4' long. It had an impressive splinter on one end and when I lifted it one handed to put it in the garbage bin, the splinter stuck in the meaty part of my hand. Of course it was a Sunday. The board broke away, and I tried to yank the splinter out, but could not. Not considering it an emergency, we tried to find an Urgent Care that was open. Failing at that, I decided to just wait until the next day and go to my Primary Care. I was pretty sure they would be able to numb it and make the opening larger and pull the splinter out.

This was when we lived in Minnesota. I called the clinic and presented myself with my now throbbing hand. The nurse set out a suture tray for the doctor and I waited patiently, thinking I would go to work after I was done. I was optimistic.

They sent me to a hand surgeon. Why? They were afraid they would damage a nerve. Was I annoyed that I had to drive downtown to their office in St. Paul? Yes, I was. I was driving one handed and picked up my chauffeur to take me. So, I get there and they give me a tetanus shot and get me all set up to have a nerve block of my entire arm that I was not particularly looking forward to. I was familiar with the procedure from my nursing days, and all the patients described it as having a thousand bees sting your armpit. 

Everything was all set. Then the insurance denied the procedure, and I had to wait until the end of the day and go to the ER and meet the hand surgeon there. No nerve block, a little numbing and then yank the stick out. I felt it. the wound was already becoming infected from the formaldehyde in the wood.

You may be wondering why I mention all this. Because I don't want to be sent to a specialist. Out of an abundance of curiosity (a normal part of my life) I decided to do a little investigating and found that the hand surgeon CLOSEST to my home is in Nashville, TN. I have only myself to blame, I wanted to live in a somewhat isolated area. This is certainly a deterrent!