As if a nasty cyst in the White House weren’t enough, there’s one on my wrist. According to my self-diagnosis, based on extensive internet research (AKA a quick Google search), it’s a ganglion cyst. At least that’s what I think and hope. I’d rather not believe it an alien being, ready to erupt through my skin and devour my face. I’m thinking I’ll test my proficiency with a scalpel, using a series of graphic representations of surgical removal of ganglion cysts as a guide. That will save me the cost of paying an insurance premium. Aside from slipping and slicing through an artery, what could go wrong (aside, of course, from deadly infections, unfathomable pain, and severed tendons)?
I would never unleash an alien beast upon the world. You think I voted for Trump?
All due respect to your undoubted awesome surgical skills, methinks you might want to check with the doc, dearie. Suppose you slice, only to unleash the alien beast upon the world? Better not chance it.