Sometimes, as a parent, it is hard to find the right words to comfort your child. Often, the most well placed thoughts come back to bite us in the butt. My teenager is notorious for using my own words against me.
Over the last couple of months, my child has had a cyst on her chin. It is not huge. It initially started looking like a zit, but had a funny color. We kept an eye on it and a few weeks before school began I noticed it had changed color and size again, so we went to her pediatrician. The doctor was perplexed. It was most likely a cyst, but where it was could be near a blood vessel. He could not be sure what was inside of it. He was not comfortable making any snap judgments and wanted to refer us out. Initially, he mentioned a surgeon to cut the cyst out, but sent us to a dermatologist instead.
The thought of a surgeon scared my child greatly. It was close to the beginning of school and she did not want to go in with stitches. She did not want the pain of having it cut out. Frankly, she did not want it period. I tried to comfort her and tell her stitches were not that bad. Of course that made her question when I had stitches. My only experience was thirteen years ago when she played a major role in my episiotomy and the stitches in my hooha. I shared my experience with a few giggles, awe, and a nice helping of disgust from my child.
We had our initial visit with the dermatologist the week before school began and the doctor decided to try another route to clearing up the cyst. He injected it with a solution to make it dissolve. We were sent on our way hopeful that we had seen the last of the cyst.
Initally, the solution seemed to help. But in the end, it returned to the size it was before our visit. We returned today for a follow up. My daughter was hopeful that it would just need another shot. Much to her chagrin, that was not an option this time. It needed to be removed.
I have to say, my daughter is a trooper. She teared up a little, but handled the removal like a champ. The only time she made any indication of really being in pain was when she was being stitched up afterwards. Of course, the place was numbed beforehand, so it could have been much worse. After some ointment and a Band-Aid was applied, we were sent on our way.
Once in the car, my child started to complain about the procedure and how she was feeling-the numbing left her chin feeling heavy and made it feel like the stitches were pulling while she talked. I told her that the numbing makes things feel funny but it wears off quickly. I was trying to tell her about the numbing that takes place when getting fillings, etc. But I was interrupted by my child. “Was your vagina heavy?!” she asked.
Needless to say, I was shocked and confused. Then it hit me. She was thinking about my stitches from the episiotomy. I had to laugh and shake my head at that one. I told her what I was going to tell her about the numbing for mouth procedures and that I do not remember my vagina ever being heavy. After a good chuckle or ten, she started worrying about what her friends would say and the normal stuff I expected.
I waited thirteen years to share my episiotomy story with that kid. At least I know she was listening and now, after our laugh, I am sure she won’t forget about it anytime soon.
ornerydame 