I went to the doctors today. I had an unsightly growth on my wrist and I was beginning to lose sensation in two fingers (not those two). Before setting out for my appointment I did what any responsible person with dependents would do and made my own diagnosis with the help of Google. A ganglion. A pocket of synovial fluid that has leaked from the joint as a result of trauma. The prognosis was for a ganglionectomy by aspiration or excision (if you didn't know me you'd swear I was a doctor using such big words). Aspiration involves draining the fluid with a large gauge needle, injecting cortisone into the now empty lump and then having the patient lay down for 30 minutes to recover. Excision means cutting the skin, removing the offending item without damaging any blood vessels or nerves and stitching the wound up. So off I go and present myself as John Merrick to the GP.
"I think it's a ganglion," I say, as he squeezes it from all angles. "According to Google."
"It is indeed," concurs the good doctor, before snapping on the latex gloves and, with a quick rub of a sterile swab, plunges what is best described as a sterile prison shank into my wrist and squeezing an aspic like fluid out of it. Elastoplast on (optional) and I'm restored to my lump free self.
So why am I telling you this? Because, dear reader, Google also listed the cost of having a ganglion removed in a private hospital. £900 - £1500. Isn't the NHS marvelous!
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