When I had my tonsils removed twenty-something years ago, the first thing the surgeon said to me when I awoke was, "It's a good thing they came out. They were filled with pus."
I croaked back, "Can I see them?" I wanted to get a good look at the nasty things that had caused me so much pain and suffering--6 bouts of tonsillitis and 2 of strep just in the preceeding year.
"No," he replied. "They've already been sent to pathology." Damn!
So with that incident in mind, as I was getting prepped for surgery yesterday, I asked if I could see the tumor that was going to be removed. No, but the O.R. nurse said she'd take a picture of it with her cellphone and send it to Darling Husband's phone, who would then email it to me. Ah, the wonders of modern technology!
The surgeon told me that a lipoma typically looks like a lump of chicken fat. After surgery, she told me that's what mine looked like, and made a circle with her fingers to indicate how large it was. I'd been describing it as egg-sized, but DH said it looked more like a ball: a Spaldeen (NYC pronunciation of "Spalding"). They're both right:
Incidentally, for once surgery went better than I expected. Already I can use both hands, though I can't raise my right arm very high, or pull or carry much with it. Whenever I was examined before the surgery, I said that I couldn't feel the lipoma, big as it was. But now that it's out, though the incision is sore as hell, my shoulder feels much lighter and looser, like something's gone that was in the way. Hooray!
Surreal moment: While on a morphine drip in the hospital this morning, telling my mother in Maine (who had her left knee replaced last month & is having the right one done on the 9th) that my stepfather (who had a heart attack after Thanksgiving and was back in the E.R. on Christmas with atrial fibrillation, and also has angina) may not so much as look at a snow shovel. They've had 18" of snow in the past few days, and he was "just" going to shovel off some of their gazillion steps--in 10F weather. She "promised" that she'd call someone for help. Then I immediately called their neighbor with a 4x4 SUV for backup. OY. (Parents...can't live with 'em, can't shoot em.)