Kenalog Injection

On Friday, I went to see Dr. T to get a series of Kenalog injections for my 'hypertrophic scarring.' I've been doing all sorts of stuff to try to reduce the scar (massage, cocoa butter + vitamin E, silicone strips), but apparently the whole Asian skin thing (a thick dermis, according to Dr. T) is going to be a perpetual curse to my scar. I figured the injections were worth a shot, although I'm starting to realize that a recurring theme in my personal medical saga is that by the time Friday afternoon rolls around, I'm never in the mood to drive 60 miles to see Dr. T. This past Friday was no exception, as I was having the most bizarre day in which every little thing that could go wrong did go wrong, and I was anxious because I needed to get home and pack because we were heading out of town that afternoon to go skiing. I was supposed to be packed already, but... I wasn't.

As Dr. T was preparing the syringes, I told him I had been dreading the appointment all day, to which he responded, 'I'm not going to sugar coat it; this is going to hurt.' When I lay down on the table and exposed myself, Dr. T reached over casually and grabbed my foob to cop a feel, commenting on how it looked good, and how nicely it had softened up. It practically feels like a real breast. The level of familiarity we now have with each other is amusing and alarming all at once - I think nothing of a strange man reaching out and grabbing my boob, yet the fact that this happens so naturally is rather creepy, if I really think about it.

Then he started the injections. They were not fun, but at least I was prepared for the fact that they would suck. It ranked right up there with getting a cortisone injection. Individually, each injection wasn't as bad as a cortisone injection, but because the scar extends from hip to hip, Dr. T did multiple injections all along the length of the scar as well as in my off-center belly button (which I finally complained about to him, haha), and the overall unpleasantness was up there. And there is something about needles in the belly that's just gross, grosser than needles in other parts of the body. I lost track of how many injections he actually did, but it was probably around 10. Some hurt more than others, because I have varying levels of numbness throughout my abdomen, ranging from no feeling to full feeling. Supposedly the feeling will come back eventually, but when I asked Dr. T how long it would take, he said 'about six months.' And... after a quick calculation, I realized it HAS been six months, so... whatever.

During one series of injections toward my side, where I have full feeling, I almost started crying, although that might have been as much due to weeks of stress and fatigue as actual pain. At one point, Dr. T instructed me, 'I need you to breathe. I'm afraid you're going to pass out.' LOL. He worked his way across my scar, and eventually got to the side that's actually not that bad. As he remarked that that part of the scar wasn't bad, I quickly said, 'Yeah, it's fine,' and pulled the gown back over me. 'I think I've had enough.'

On a side note, as I lifted up the gown so Dr. T could do the injection, he commented, 'I see you've lost some weight.' I was somewhat taken aback, because, hello, it is rude to comment on a lady's weight like that! But then I realized he was using his concerned doctor voice on me, not his 'I'm making casual conversation with you' voice. Did I detect a hint of criticism in his tone? 'I have?' I asked. I'm not usually aware of my weight, except insofar as it affects how my clothes fit, and I haven't noticed any drastic changes as of late. I shrugged the comment off, and told Dr. T I had been really busy, and really stressed. That seemed like enough of an explanation for him, and we left it at that. However, later on he told me that Pamela, his new PA, had found a really good barbecue place in the town where I live, one that does Texas-style barbecue. (Both he and Pamela moved here from Texas, and apparently like the way Texans do barbecues.) I immediately guessed which restaurant he was talking about, and he said, 'Yes! That's it!' Then he asked me if it was good. I told him I didn't know, that I'm not a big fan of barbecue. So then he asked, 'What type of food do you like?' Before I could answer, he gave me a sort of funny look, then said only half jokingly, 'Do you even like food?' Geez, have I really lost that much weight?!

As for the scarring, Dr. T cautioned me that the injections wouldn't have an immediate effect, and that I'd need to come back to repeat this in 6-8 weeks. UGH! I told him that almost made me hope that the feeling in my abdomen never comes back! 

Anyway. At least Dr. T is a lovely person with whom I enjoy visiting, which makes the appointments bearable. Throughout the appointment, we talked about our families, about traveling, about skiing, about my career change, about his upcoming talk at my school. He said that he was going to Costa Rica for spring break, although he didn't know where in Costa Rica, because his wife arranges everything. However, next year he is taking his family to Korea and Thailand, because his daughter is almost 15, and 'pretty soon she won't want to travel with us.' He said he wanted to show his children the type of village that many people in Korea still live in, despite the fact that Korea is industrialized. Then he said that when he was in college, he used to wait tables at a Thai restaurant, and during that time he gained a great appreciation for Thai food, Thai people, and Thai culture. I told him we weren't going anywhere for spring break, then said jokingly that it was because I had spent all my money on medical bills. 'Sorry about that,' he said with a grin, not looking too sorry. LOL. I did mention that we were going skiing, though, so we talked about skiing, the best places to go skiing, and how insanely expensive skiing is, the latter reason being why I never skied much as a kid. He said he never skied as a kid, either, because his family was very poor - We were a typical immigrant family, with three families living in a two-bedroom apartment. (Not to mention, he grew up in Virginia, which isn't exactly the skiing capital of the U.S.) He said he only started skiing as an adult, six years ago, and while he was interested in learning to snowboard, he didn't want to break his wrist. (Yeah, wouldn't it be annoying if he had a surgery planned, and had to cancel it due to a broken wrist?!)

While some of the conversation was surely his attempt to distract me from the unpleasantness of the injections, most of it was like talking to an old friend, and it filled me with an inexplicable sense of ironic awe. Something like this: Wow, I am so unlucky to know this incredible man so well, but at the same time, I am so lucky to know this incredible man so well. Life is funny that way. As my colleague put it, it's the bright side of a dull gray cloud. But clouds are okay. Clouds bring rain, and rain allows us to grow food and pretty flowers. Despite what Dr. T may think, I love food. And flowers, too. :)