cut it out

There was a pin prick and a faint numbing when the anesthetic was pushed under my skin through a tiny needle. I began to feel nauseous and nervous. I did not anticipate any of this when my wheels made the leaves crackle beneath them as I rode to the doctor's office. I felt drops of cool fluid flow into my tiny ravine made by the bones and flesh of my collar. The wetness ran across my shoulder and down my back. Dr. Irving swabbed the area with a disinfectant.

I could feel my skin separate from the pressure of the blade. I knew there was blood but couldn't feel it. The entire surface of my skin tensed and my blood rushed in an automatic response to flee this danger. I begged myself to not vomit or pass out and I screeched involuntarily as the doctor clamped and tugged and tugged and clamped. He asked me questions and my mind reeled and I spoke random thoughts, a stream of consciousness and facts came gurgling out of me..

I have a cat. She is white. Her name is Ruby. My apartment is a mess. I need to do laundry. I want to go home. This hurts. I don't like this. I don't like this. I don't like this. Can it be over now. I will not throw up. I feel like I am going to pass out. OUCH. OK. Stay calm. How much longer? Minutes or seconds? OUCH. OUCH. My arm! There was a shooting pain up down my arm. Oh my god ohmygodohmygod..

I lay there wondering if I could ever endure childbirth. I tried to actually notice that nothing was actually painful but rather just so disturbing and invasive. I knew I had an opening in my skin. I knew my skin has been clamped back and I knew someone was digging around and snipping something away from the body that created it. It was a mini, tiny C- section below my shoulder and I was begging for it to be over.

And then it was. I could feel my skin being tugged and stitched back together. I started to relax. Disinfectant squirted over the fresh wound and bit of dressing and bandages applied. That was it. It seemed like it would last forever but it was over in 5 minutes and my body no longer housed a lipoma, but I was not handed a tiny bundle wrapped in cloth.

Instead, blobs of yellowish, shiny, tissue material lay bloody on a stainless steel table looking
...deceptively... like organic chicken.