It Came From Planet Zit, Victorian Quack Cures, and It’s Frozen

monster zit

It has taken on a life of its own…

Thankfully this face crater is not on my face.  I have enough problems.  Unfortunately it’s on the POMC’s face, which really sucks for him.  Nasty.  The worst part of it is that if the antibiotics don’t kill it off he might have to go to a plastic surgeon and have it cut out.  Joy and rapture- and this for a guy who almost lost it over a simple blood draw.  I had my quarterly required blood draw yesterday.  Big deal. I really don’t even notice it, but then the phlebotomists at the lab draw blood all day long.  It’s simply what they do, and they’re good at it.  The POMC, on the other hand, I hate to see what kind of anguish he might experience over a minor surgery that will (while still being minor) have a bit more to it than a simple blood draw.

I had to have a funky growth taken off the side of my head about 15 years ago.  I was worried about losing hair over it, but they didn’t even shave that section of my head.  The actual surgery was about five minutes, and it wasn’t that bad except for the surgeon was a little rough with the Lidocaine.  Getting to surgery was the problem.  I was scheduled for 7:30 AM, but didn’t get taken in until almost 2:30 PM.  The guy who was scheduled for surgery right before me picked a really inconvenient time to Bite the Big One- as in, he commenced to take the Dirt Nap while he was on the operating table getting an ingrown toenail or something cut out.


Eventually, the Morgue Cart comes for us all.

So I had to wait around while they brought the code team in to try to get him jumpstarted.  That was an effort in futility.  Once they were satisfied that the guy was completely dead, and there was no revival going to happen, then I had to wait for the medical examiner’s team to come in and take notes and clean up and do the paperwork necessary to send the poor dude down to the morgue.  Then the cleaning crew had to come in and hose everything down so it would smell nice and disinfectant-y, presumably in the hope that maybe I wouldn’t get too freaked that some guy just died in there while getting a minor surgical procedure on somewhat of the same scale of what I was having.


Yeah, the scent of shit-and-piss hosed down with disinfectant spray and Clorox doesn’t remind me of my own mortality and impending death. Not at all.  ‘Kay…  What made the whole experience even more fun is that the surgeon was a big burly guy with a very German name and a rather morbid sense of humor.


I was rather pissed by the time they were finally getting me rolled in to surgery.  I had spent most of the day starving, sifting through stacks of distressed, inane and aged periodicals, and enduring such drivel on TV as Montel and other various daytime “Who Be My Baby Daddy” sorts of shows.  Even so, in spite of my angst, curiosity got the best of me, and I asked some of the nurses and orderlies what sort of disaster went down, and why it was cause for my very minor surgery to be so delayed. They were more than happy to give me the low down on why my surgery was delayed for seven hours.

I also had to find it funny when the surgeon comes loping in the operating room, syringe full of Lidocaine, saying, “Hey don’t die on me here- that’s what happened to the last guy.  It’s bad for business.”  At least the surgery was quick, and he didn’t do any damage to the facial nerve the growth was right on top of.  I can still eat without drooling and can enunciate when I speak, (these are good things.)  Also a good thing, according to the path lab, the growth was benign. It never came back.

Getting a new driver’s license and a registration renewal at the BMV is faster than processing a dead dude to go to the morgue, apparently.  Shit happens.  Sometimes the timing just sucks.


The BMV: Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here!

Of course the weather here in beautiful Central Ohio is absolutely frozen- right now it’s 9º.  Of course when it is that cold here, that cold is always accompanied by gale force winds that make it feel like it’s 20° below.  Just walking out to the car is being outside too much in this weather.


I wish there actually were something like this device, and that it actually worked.

There is something a bit creepy about wearing batteries on your head.  There is also something a bit creepy about having a constant, splitting headache that feels like someone is trying to break out my hard palate from the inside with a crowbar, and to take the same crowbar and poke my right eye clean out of the socket from the inside too.

I’d duct tape some nine-volts to my noggin if that would make this shit go away, damn tootin’.

Unfortunately I think it’s just another reaction to stress and the stupidity that surrounds me.


I don’t think this would do much of anything.

wash away fat

I wish this one would work, but we all know better than that.

2 thoughts on “It Came From Planet Zit, Victorian Quack Cures, and It’s Frozen

  1. Like your son, I used to get some nasty face-craters. I probably still would, but I’ve gotten a little better about keeping my hands off them.

    On the plus side, I’ve never had a headache (not counting ice-cream headaches or trauma-induced headaches–e.g., getting hit in the head).

    And you’re braver than I am. If the doctor said “Try not to die on me, ’cause my last patient did,” I’d remind him why the Krauts aren’t known for their humor.

    • The weird thing is, Steve-o almost never got zits, especially ones of this magnitude, even in the deepest throes of the Puberty Demon occupation, so this is particularly vexing for him.

      Agreed- I have yet to hear of a successful German comedian. It’s just not in their wiring. But I went ahead and let him do the surgery, because scheduling’s a bitch and I knew I’d play hell getting another day off.

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