A tale of two cysts

March 16, 2023

A tale of two cysts

I was quite pleased with that title actually!

So a few years ago, well, mid-June 2018 actually I had a cyst removed from a toe. I was sedated and local anaesthetic was pumped in and this cyst dug out. They apparently ground off the bone spurs that cause the cysts and it was never to return again.

Except it did. Instead of growing up the top of my toe, it grew out the side and partly on the scar tissue which caused real itchiness and pain. It would get rubbed on shoes and swell and pop and get infected then I’d have antibiotics with their own lovely side effects and repeat. Ugh.

The doctor would pop and drain and inject steroids which was supposed to stop it coming back but it didn’t work. And the wonderful NHS rules state this has to happened three times before you can be referred to operating peeps.

I had a really quick consultant meeting in January at Warwick and he was like ‘yep, it needs to come out’ and sent me to pre-op straight away to get that bit sorted early. And then the date roulette started ……….

The surgeon I was assigned to was on long term sick and decided he didn’t want to come back on the date I was first booked in. So I was moved and he then decided he wanted to do knees not feet. And then they couldn’t do an afternoon session. Honestly it was like hearing how someone hadn’t handed in their homework.

Three dates later I finally made it to day surgery reception and through to check-in and gowning up. I didn’t quite want to believe it until I was drawn on.

The operation was being done this time under local anaesthetic and no sedation for ‘speediness’ – basically with sedation I’d need to stay in longer, more aftercare blah blah blah. Local meant done, out, dressed and go home.

Local also meant ‘oh it’s not that serious, you don’t need post-op pain meds’

The plan to dig out the cyst again was fine. There was a reserve plan of a ‘just in case’ which would be grinding back bone again and the very extreme possibility of fusing the toe joint. They didn’t expect this latter bit.

Of course. It happened.

I’m on a bed, awake, hearing EVERYTHING. I see knives, iodine, drills, hammers, the whole flipping tool set, a dirty great big cupboard full of machinery. Yes, they chopped my dinky toe open and then dug the cyst out. Ground the bone away and then started drilling. And another drill. And another, And then a meter long wire and blinking great big hammer. It was not fun. I’ve never had anything done at the dentists, never had a filling or things like that, so the noise was a shock. The pressure, the post-op bruises, the violence of it all ohmydays.

Paracetamol was going to be enough apparently. And on tuesday morning, at 8am I entered the receptionist roulette of phone calls to beg my GP for some actual pain relief.

There is a wire sticking out of my foot. There is a bandage that makes my foot look the size of a watermelon. I am not allowed to get it wet. I am not allowed to put weight through my foot. I have to keep my foot elevated as much as possible. I have stitches out in two weeks and the wire out after that. The surgeon wanted 6 weeks but we go away on April 16th so I need that out sooner. And then I need to learn to walk again. On holiday.

I am grumpy. I am so blinking sore. I am very rubbish at sitting still.

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