A Pig and a Prayer

“I just don’t want to do it right now,” I told my friend, Alice.

We were discussing my soon-to-happen “medical procedure” scheduled for the next Friday. (Warning: it isn’t graphic but if you are squeamish you might not want to read this.)

I was having a cyst removed from the side of my head. It had been there for some time. Small and hidden under my hair, two different MD’s had told me it was no big deal and that “that type of cyst is common and not cancerous. We can remove it, but we will have to shave part of your hair off to do it.” Since they both told the same story, I decided not to worry about it. I didn’t want to shave my head so I left it alone.

Then recently it changed. Growing larger and becoming tender, I knew it needed to come off even if it meant having a bald spot for a while. I was referred to a surgeon who scheduled it for a local hospital.

My conversation with Alice was happening the weekend before. Junior High friends who had rediscovered each other via Facebook, we often call each other for prayer and good conversation.

“I asked twice if she (the surgeon) would just do it in her office,” I told Alice. “She said it was too large and while she thought it would be a normal procedure, she needed to do it at the hospital in case of excess bleeding. I was fine with that until the hospital called to tell me the cost of my copay. It was huge — for just a little thing on the side of my head.” (In actuality “the little thing” was now the size of a rubber ball cut in half.)

“And that doesn’t even include the doctor and anesthesiologist,” I continued. I was just getting over a fractured elbow and not working, the idea of spending that large of a chunk of cash was disheartening. “I just want it to go away on its own,” I told her.

“Well, let’s pray that it will,” Alice said. “God, we come to you now. You are a good God. You know us already. You know Claudine’s concerns about the cost and having to use anesthesia. You know her heart. Today Lord, we ask for you to get rid of this cyst…make it to go away. Let it drain and leave. If not that way Lord, we ask that you change the doctor’s mind and have her do it in the office. We know that you are far more creative than we are, so we ask that you do something in this situation that causes Claudine not to have to go to the hospital and have that expense. Heal her head Lord in a way that brings you glory. In the name of Jesus we ask this. Amen.”

On Monday morning the cyst was still there in all its glory. It had not gotten smaller. It was still hurting. Now the lymph nodes behind my right ear were swollen too.

On Tuesday, I decided to call the surgeon’s office to see if I needed an antibiotic or something. “It may be infected,” I told her nurse.

“Well, we never discourage a patient from seeing the Doctor before a procedure. Why don’t you come in before noon today and let her take a look. But you have to get here before noon because she has something scheduled for lunch.”

I arrived at the office at 11:50. There were nine others in front of me. I figured I was going to have a long wait. Instead, I was ushered into a room after only twenty minutes, the last patient to be seen.

Almost immediately the surgeon entered. “What’s going on?” she teased, her eyes crinkled in a smile. Small in size but big in personality, I had met Dr. S only once. From that meeting I knew she had a great sense of humor and a spunky disposition.

“I think this might be infected,” I told her, flipping my hair out of the way. “It started…”

“Oh, yes, that isn’t pretty,” she interrupted me. Turning abruptly, she went towards the door. “Just a minute, I’ll be back.”

Her office nurse was standing in the doorway. Pointing at her she said, “Call the hospital and cancel Friday. We are going to do this today.” Then she turned and faced down the hallway and spoke to someone I couldn’t see. “Hey, will that powder of yours work on this? I’m getting ready to lance a cyst.”

“Probably. It should,” I heard a man answer.

“Come look,” she told him, opening the door wider to my room.

A young man wearing scrubs walked in. “See this,” she told him, moving my hair away. “Will it work?”

“Yes. It will work on that.”

“Fine,” she stated matter-of-factly. “We’ll do it now. He has a new product I’ll let him explain to you.” She began to bustle around giving instructions to her staff as he talked.

“Are you a drug rep?” I asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Yes, I’m Clay. This is a fairly new product, a powder that we will put in the wound. Within two days it will absorb into your tissues and begin to tell your body to regenerate itself. Where a normal wound would want to scar, this tells your body to send collagen and t-cells and regenerate.”

Dr. S was standing nearby when he finished. “I think this is such a coincidence,” she said. “Who would have thought that you would be here and he would be here within ten minutes of each other. I wanted to learn about this. How amazing is it that you are here together?” She was clearly excited.

“Well, actually,” I began. “It isn’t really a coincidence. I’ve had friends praying that you would change your mind and do the procedure in the office. One friend said a special prayer for me last Saturday for this very thing.”  I began to share with her about my broken elbow and not wanting the added expense of a hospital procedure.

“Oh, well you will like this even better then,” she said as she headed out the door. “This one won’t cost anything. It’s on him,” she added, pointing toward Clay.

“That’s right. It’s on me,” he agreed.

“Oh wow, thank you,” I breathed a sigh of relief. “What’s in it? Is it made of a bunch of chemicals?”

“No, not really.” He began to explain. “It is made from the inner lining of a pig bladder. It is dehydrated and it triggers your body’s regenerative ability and causes it to restore normal tissue.” Pulling out his phone, he had several photographs of before and after that he showed me.

He went on to share the history of the company. Based in New England, the founder had always been fascinated by salamanders and how if one lost a leg, it could regenerate a new one. The doctor set out to research and discover how that was possible and to see if it could be duplicated with human cells.

Eventually, along with his business partner, they began to market a cutting-edge product. One of the first cases featured a man who lost the end of his finger. Instead of opting for skin grafts and surgery, he applied the powder every other day. Over the course of a few months, his finger grew back, complete and whole, fingernail and all. (I know, sounds like something out of the Twilight Zone.)

As the nurse and surgeon hurried around getting supplies (including a trip to a nearby doctor in the same building to get saline), I texted my husband and a few friends. “She is going to do it now. Pray that it doesn’t hurt too bad.”

Eventually, propped on the table with a towel over my shoulder, the surgeon standing on a stool on one side, the drug rep standing on a stool on the other, we began.

“I can’t believe I am doing this in my office,” she said as she aimed the needle at my head.

For the next fifteen or so minutes we all talked. She gave a play-by-play to me of what she was doing. Both of us asked questions of Clay about the product. He gave instructions to her on how to finish the procedure. The pain was never anything I couldn’t stand.

At one point she told her nurse, “I’m going to need a clamp.”

The girl handed her an instrument. “That is not a clamp,” she told her.

I started to giggle. It WAS funny. But I was never concerned. I do however, admit to hollering when she pulled the cyst out. Not because it hurt, but because it was creepy. (Then I asked them to take a picture.)

As she packed the powder in my wound she said, “If this works it will be the best thing since sliced bread.”

Almost finished, she asked Clay, “How are we going to cover this? We didn’t shave any of her hair. We can’t tape it on.”

“I can answer that,” I said. “When it was hurting last weekend I used some gauze and ointment and held it on with an ACE bandage made into a headband.”

“I have an ACE bandage. We can do that,” she said.

And just like that, wearing a red makeshift headband, I was done. A bit addled, my head throbbing, I listened to Clay tell me how to care for it. I scheduled a follow-up visit two weeks out and headed to my car. I had been there nearly two hours. It was then I realized that there was a mountain of food unopened in their break room. Clay had brought the office lunch and had planned to share about the product. Instead, Dr. S and her staff got to experience it firsthand.

Driving home, I felt sort of like I do when I’ve been to the dentist and the numbness starts to wear off. I called my husband to tell him what happened. “This gives new meaning to the term pigheaded, “I told him, laughing. “If you call me that now it will be true.” Picking up a prescription for pain meds that I never needed I headed home. By that evening I was pain-free.

Last week, checking out at the drugstore, I was surprised when the cashier said, “Excuse me,” she was leaning towards me, squinting at my hairline. “Is that an ACE bandage on your head? Did you make it into a headband?”

“Oh dear. Did I forget?” Touching my head, I felt the nubby texture of the bandage. “I forgot to change into my real headband,” I explained. “And yes, this is an ACE. I had a medical procedure done on my head and this holds the non-stick bandage on nicely.” I peeled up the edge of the ACE so she could see the white bandage underneath.

“It looks good,” she said. “I thought you did it on purpose.”

“Well, it is on purpose, but not because I needed a headband. I wear this one at home because it is softer and a bit less tight than a real one. I just forgot to change it this morning.”

“I like it. I thought you were being creative, wearing an ACE bandage around on your head.”

I walked out of the store with a grin on my face. I felt silly getting caught wearing it in public, but the grin was because that homemade headband represented an answered prayer that even I did not see coming.

It has been three weeks and the large hole in my head is almost completely closed (and no, they did not take out my brains, even though I’ve had plenty of friends ask). There is fresh pink skin and hair starting to grow. And other than the grossness of not being allowed to wash my hair normally (because the wound can’t get wet) it has been very uncomplicated.

I had no stitches, no hospital procedure and no cost. Just some pig powder and a whole lot of prayer.

Only God could orchestrate that.

FYI – as of this week I am headband and ACE bandage free!!!