About a year ago, during the spring of my senior year in high school, I had a real pain in the rear. nothing major at first, mind you — just a little red dot in my cleft with a little pressure, and a tiny bit of discomfort and itching. A butt pimple, right? Teenagers get a pimple or two down there. I thought nothing of it.
That changed dramatically over the next fourteen days. Over the course of these two weeks, my “pimple” (Or so this fool thought) progressed from a little bump to a deep, deep ache that had me racking my brain trying to figure out how I could have possibly broken my tailbone. I’m not kidding. For two weeks, I hobbled, limped, and tried to have as little contact as possible occur between my rear and any chair seat. Above all else, my mission during this time, as a high school kid, was to do everything in my power to keep my parents from finding out about my butt pimple turned broken tailbone, because I knew, just knew that they would force me to see a doctor. Then came the fateful night. I decided to have a look at things. Hobbled to the bathroom, bent over, put my posterior in the mirror, and there it was. Staring back at me was a greenish-tinged, swollen, weepy lump on my left buttock the size of a golf ball. It hurt like anything, and it looked ugly.
Worst of all, I had absolutely no idea what was going on. I grabbed a washcloth and some warm water, put my rear back to the mirror, and pressed down. The floodgates burst open, and little did I know that I would need a bucket to catch the nasty, foul-smelling drainage. After I scrubbed the green filth off the bathroom mirror, wall, and floor, I looked up everything I could find online about what could be wrong with me (While sitting on a towel). I had never heard of pilonidal cysts, and felt alone and afraid.
The information that I ran across enlightened me about pilo, but also convinced me that I had, as I sobbed to my mother the next morning, “Fat hairy butt MAN DISEASE!!” That could only be remedied by surgery. As I feared, my parents did drag me to the doctor, where I learned that yes, girls DO get pilonidal cysts, and no, it’s nothing to be ashamed of. I was told that surgery should be considered after a second flare-up, which I am dealing with now. Off to the doctor again, and thankful to have had only two cysts in one year.
Well, hope my story wasn’t too blow-by-blow or too gross. Hopefully it can encourage even one person, especially other girls (or anyone) dealing with pilonidal trouble and are clueless or terrified. Hang in there!