Tomorrow is my appointment with the dermatologist. I was glad that they called at the end of the week last week to tell me when the appointment was because I had forgotten. (I found it on the calendar after they called, but the writing [dad's] was so hard to read that I might have missed it if I hadn’t known what day to look on.) I had planned on calling them, but, as with all phone calls that I’m supposed to make, I put it off until they actually called me. Not a responsible idea, I know, but I was just too chicken to make the call. (I really have to get over that.)
My rash has been acting up again. I’m actually glad about that, since it’s such a hard rash to describe. (It should be easy, but I tend to jumble my words around doctors.) So, maybe I’ll be all splotchy, red, and itchy. Maybe that will help with the description. Otherwise, tomorrow’s appointment will be all for naught.
I don’t think my dad is happy that I have a dermatologist appointment tomorrow. He has one next month. His was scheduled before mine was, with a different doctor, so it probably is unfair that I have one sooner than his. I know his psoriasis is bothering him a lot. I don’t want him to suffer, but I also know that I need to see the dermatologist. I also know that he knows that. Maybe I’m projecting my own thoughts about it being unfair that I could get a quicker appointment than him. I probably do that a lot. Yeah, I know, that’s nuts.