The ganglions.

No, this picture has nothing to do with the story.
I never get embarrassed.  Truly.  That’s not to say I don’t do things that SHOULD embarrass me, but I’m pretty darn good at brushing things off and just accepting the fact that I’m a tad “quirky.”  This experience, though, genuinely tugs at my heart. . . .  I even cried as I told it to John when he got home from work…  This one was hard to brush off. 
Let me preface this story by explaining that there is no explanation for how wussy I am…. I’m the wussiest of all the wusses who ever wussed.  
Now, for our tale:
I have had a cyst on my wrist for over ten years now but have just lived with it.  There have been bouts every few years or so where it is really painful but I just sleep in a hand brace and it’s usually resolved within a week or so.  About a month ago my wrist startede hurting again, but this time it was deeper and more chronic and nothing helped the pain.  I noticed the cyst was getting significantly bigger and my hand and lower arm started tingling.  My activities of daily living were being compromised because of the pain, so I knew it was time to get it taken care of.  My throbbing wrist was just always on my mind.
I was referred to a doctor by a friend (whom I adore, for the record) who had gone through the same thing as me a few years ago and had ended up getting her cyst removed after a few rounds of steroid injections.  I knew because of our current financial situation that we could not take any risks of extra expenditures, so I thought it might be best in the long run to just get the puppy removed first thing so that the chance of reoccurrence went from 50% down to 2% and we wouldn’t have to dish out any extra amounts for services that might not completely resolve the issue.
So off I went to my consultation appointment (this was yesterday).  The nurse started walking me back to the room and began to make charming chit chat.  She complimented my pants (I took a risk that morning and wore some silky palazzo pants…) and then asked me if I “made” them.  Basically, that is code for “Please tell me you did not spend money on those.”  No, this was not the embarrassing part….
Fast forward a few minutes.  After waiting in the procedure room for a little while, the doctor came in and we chatted.  He explained it was a Ganglion Cyst (I already knew this…) and that he just wanted to drain it right then.
Part of me semi-expected this might be presented as an option, but I IMMEDIATELY started sweating and getting dizzy.  
A NEEDLE?  In my already-excrutiatingly-painful wrist?  To basically POP a rock-hard balloon of JOINT FLUID? (gross, sorry….) It was all happening so quickly, and I do NOT do well with pain….
I then started to bawl and simultaneously nervous-laugh (or should we say nervous-cackle).  I explained to the doctor that I do not do well with things like this….. that I, in fact, have to get laughy gas at the dentist for minor cavity fillings….. and that I was shaking from fear and starting to black out a little.  He invited me to lie down on the procedure table so that I wouldn’t “faint on him,” as he said it.  It was obvious to him that I was having an extreme nervous reaction, but it must not have been obvious to him that I was having a genuine panic attack.  
Because he proceeded to be an absolute JERK to me about it.  
Keep in mind, I was crying like a baby.  I was sweating.  I was shaking.  I was clearly scared out of my mind (yes, I know I’m a wuss, but my wussy feelings are still REAL, people…).  He condescendingly asked if I needed someone to come in and “hold my hand,” to which I replied, “I’d rather not anyone else see me in this state, thank you.”  
Then, in his professional, unsympathetic superiority (and, yes, after a few more “WAIT! I’m not ready”‘s), he told me that this was too little of a deal, that it was “too easy” of a procedure for me to “act this way” and that he wasn’t going to deal with it, and that he wasn’t going to try to talk me into it.  He basically explained that he didn’t have time for my silliness and that he had other things he could be doing if I was just going to keep delaying everything the way I was.  
Uuuuuhhh… bedside manner much?
I was so stunned that he would talk to me that way, it actually kind of brought me back down to earth (a cruel, cruel earth full of pompous doctors {not you, FIL!!}) and I was all K, fine, just do it so I can get out of here away from your icy, discounting soul.  
But then I was like, “WAIT (which he obviously loved)! Is there any way you might hit a nerve with the needle? That has happened to me more times than I can count, which is probably why I’m so scared.”
“No, there is no way.  Just lie down.”

  Sure, he explained it away by say something like Oh, it wasn’t a nerve, it was just the local anesthesia not working.  K, I’m not okay with that either.  If there were ever a patient you’d want the local anesthesia to work on, obviously it would be the hysterical, sweating, shaking woman who has already explained to you how scared of pain she is.  A double dose for good measure woulda been a nice gesture, just saying.
Anyway, I was so embarrassed by the way he treated me.  Like my feelings didn’t deserve attention or sympathy.  Like they weren’t real, or that I was just immature or crazy.  Basically, he treated me like I was an idiot.  It was the least-human I have ever felt.
I shoulda been like, “ExCUSE me.  Do you know who I AM??”  But that woulda been as far as that coulda gone.
Yes, I’m sure my behavior was startling.  But I honestly had no control over my physical reaction to everything.  I wasn’t trying to be cute or funny.  I was literally freaking out.  But Mr. Highandmighty didn’t have time or patience for my panic attack.  Let’s just chalk it up to the idea that maybe his wife  burnt his toast that morning and he was just grumpy.  I’m sure he’s a fine person?
The end.
PS, the cyst reaccumulated within two hours (frownies!!).  Yeah, so now I have to go BACK and show my face in his office again.  Some pressure from the fluid was relieved with the needle, though, so I think I’ll just live with it until I can’t handle the pain again.  But now my wrist hurts in other areas, too.  Anyhoo, it’s just all a mess.  Plus I think I have a cavity.  Geesh.