The Blame Game

Don’t read this if you are at all squeamish about the word ooze, ok?

For years—like since I have known him, Hub had a small bump on his back. It was soft, barely noticeable, and his doctor assured him that it was just an oily cyst. I’m familiar with such things because I have very oily hair and routinely have these kinds of bumps removed from my scalp. Maybe 5 or so years ago though, Hub’s bump began to grow and as it did, I would point this out. My reasoning was that he couldn’t see of feel his own back, and also—if it’s growing, maybe he should have it checked out.

He declined though. It didn’t bother him and why should he. I told him that I was worried about him getting an infection under there, if the gland was so active and there was no place for it to go. He rolled his eyes and ignored me. Around the time this bad boy had swelled to be the size of a golf ball, as in, you could see it protruding from underneath his shirts, Hub came down with a bad case of eczema. He was going to see my dermatologist so I asked him to please have her look at this cyst.

She did, and advised that because of the size and the activity, he should definitely have it removed. He came home with the news and I was pleased. It had worried me for so long, and if I was being honest, it was starting to gross me out. He scheduled the surgery and had it removed with little complications, but after the fact it began draining, and draining and draining. It was horrible. At one point there was a hole the size of a pencil eraser in his back and I could see in to the cavity. He had the dermatologist look at it a few times and was assured it was all completely normal. Finally it closed up and healed, leaving in its wake a purple scar that was somewhat indented on his back.

So things were good, up until a few weeks ago when the scar started to swell. And then it swelled some more. And then it started to get hot, and then we made an emergency dermatologist appointment. Somehow the cavity had become infected and it wasn’t pretty. Hub had to have the thing lanced and they drained it out. He left there having had a sample of the ooze sent off to be tested for MRSA (negative, fyi), a strong antibiotic to take 4 times a day and a referral to a plastic surgeon to have this cavity cleaned out and closed up from the inside.

Hub came home, and he was beyond pissed. This was all my fault, he accused. If I wouldn’t have harped and harped on him about getting the bump removed, and if I wouldn’t have been so grossed out by him and if I wouldn’t have sent him off to some pimple popper this never would have happened. We’ve had this argument something like 85 times now where he makes these accusations and where I maintain that I am not a medical professional and only asked for him to have it looked at because the growth was concerning me. Yes, I may have said it was kind of gross near the end, but I never harped or nagged. At least not to the degree he claims. Maybe I nudged. But that is all I will admit to.

And now, the surgery appointment is in a few weeks. Honestly you guys, I don’t want to be around after the fact. The surgeon has already said it’s going to be a painful recovery and has provided some good drugs. The surgeon also completely called out the dermatologist to say she never should have taken on something like this in her office. He is totally on Hub’s side and fueling his fire.

So what do I do? I’m pretty sure that no matter what I say, he’s always going to blame me. And until this thing heals for good, he is going to be on pissy guy. I’m taking the stance that I am not going to argue about it anymore, but I don’t know if that’s going to work. So tell me oh wise internets, what the heck do I do here?