The End of the Sliver in the Butt Saga???

Not fair leaving all ya'alls hanging - worrying about the sliver in my butt and all.  So what was the end (yes, pun intended) of the saga....or has it ended?
 
My doctor referred me to a surgeon since the sliver was deep and required a larger incision than my family doc wanted to do.  The problem started because the surgeon thought the sliver was beneath him -- specialist and all.  I explained that the sliver was beneath me and I was tired of not being able to sit comfortably.  So we reached a compromise - of sorts.  The surgeon, on a Thursday (day 5 of the sliver) said if I would wait until Monday, he would take it out.  Mumbling audibly, that the sliver will have worked its way out by then.  I wanted to assure him that it would not since it was working its way in a whole 'nother direction, but the door was closed and the conversation was over.
 
On Monday - voila - I presented myself, butt, sliver and all to the surgeon's office and he condescendingly said, "Okay, let's take a look."  We walk into a small office with his nurse and he said again, "Okay, let's take a look."  I look to the nurse and say, "Is there a gown I should put on?"
She says, "No just come over here and pull down your pants."
 
Over here was like a mound of leather and metal - similar in shape to a small, office size igloo with a kneeling bench not unlike a church pew.  She directs me to drop trow and kneel on the lowered rail, and then to bend over the hump, head down, and hold on to some handles on each side.
 
Odd, but hey -- I just want my sliver out.  But then!  But then - up we go - into the air - butt first, a bit of a swivel here, a twist and turn there -- I felt like I was riding a mechanical bull, sober, with my bare butt in the air.  (Not that I've ever done this.)
 
The doctor asks me to point to the site of the sliver - I do, and he says, "I can't feel it."  I say, "Well, I can, and it's right here."
 
He said that he would prefer doing the extraction in a surgical center or hospital where he can give me a general anesthetic, and then do exploratory surgery.  All during this discussion, mind you, my head was pointing south and my bare butt was pointing north.

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I pulled out the big piece. The surgeon extracted the 1/2 inch piece.

I said that I really, really wanted the sliver out today.  I said I was good with a local and could he just make an incision and take a look.
 
"Okay," he said.  "If that's what you want, let's do it.  By the way, if we are going to do it, you don't mind if I use this as a teaching experience do you?"  All I wanted was my gosh darn sliver out -- put it on YouTube for all I care, I just want it out.  (I didn't say that aloud...just to myself.)  And into the room marched numerous people -- who and how many, I don't know.... remember,  my butt is up, my head is down.  Then someone slides a paper under my face and said, "Can you sign this waiver of liability?"  I started to lift myself so I could take a look at it and she cautioned, "Don't move.  You can sign it from down there."
 
As we got ready for the long-awaited incision, there was more riding of the wild mechanical bull to get my butt in just the right location.  The surgeon poked around the general area and said again, "You know, I really can't feel it.  If I start cutting around and don't locate it, we will both be disappointed, and you will have a large, ugly scar on your butt."  
 
To which I replied, "I don't care - my butt modeling days are over."  And suddenly, the room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.  I don't know why I said that.  I tried to pull my foot out of my mouth (figuratively, although on this wild mechanical bull contraption I probably could have literally put it there) - "Actually, I never was a butt model.  So let's go ahead."  The tittering resumed.  Whew.
 
Again the surgeon said, "this will be exploratory and you may be disappointed."  And I said, putting my index finger on my butt directly over the splinter I could feel, "if you cut right here, right under the spot I am pointing to, neither of us will be disappointed and you will have succeeded in removing my sliver."
 
He did and within seconds, he said, "By golly, you were right - there it is, exactly where you said it was.  How long do you think it is?"
 
I said, "a half inch."
 
The nurse measured and it was exactly a 1/2 inch.  To this day, I swear it would be so much easier for everyone if doctors just listened to what their patients had to say since most of us understand our bodies pretty well.
 
I heard him say that the area around the sliver was infected.  But I was too exhausted and relieved at that point that I zoned out.  The wild mechanical bull contraption took off for another ride and then someone began doing stitching.
 
Ahh -- so here is where the infamous sliver saga may not be over.  I know, after numerous dog bites as a dog foster mom, and after 5 years in a trauma unit - never, ever stitch in an infection.  But he prescribed antibiotics so I just hoped they would kill any and all germs and various and sundry bacteria.
 
On the plus side - as soon as I got home, and the anesthetic was wearing off, I Googled my prescription to see if I could imbibe in alcoholic beverages while taking it (since with some you can't) and YES!!!  Since we had not discussed pain meds, a large arctic chilled, vodka martini was in order.
 
Stay tune, if you dare or if you care.
​At least I am no longer the butt of many jokes.

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