In Case of Rash


You know how I was happy that the rash had been acting up because I thought it would help me explain to the dermatologist what had been going on? Well, when I woke up, it wasn’t acting up. It apparently decided to give me a reprieve. Maybe all of those comments a few years back about this stuff being in my head were right. Either that or my body has a sick/twisted sense of humor.

Since I had waited all those many months to get an appointment, and had only been awake for about an hour prior to the appointment, I went sans rash to said appointment. (Wow. I used the word appointment way too many times there.) I then ended up doing myself the great disservice of playing down the rash. I didn’t tell the dermatologist that this was a rash that I’ve had off-and-on since I was a teenager. I didn’t emphasize properly that this is a rash that I also get inside and at night. He said it was probably the Lisinopril that I’ve taken (literally) 32 tablets of between last summer and today. (I take them as needed. I get the rash whenever it decides to show up.) As I tried to explain this, he was like, “Well, you’d be surprised how little of a medicine it takes to cause this kind of reaction.” I almost told him to go next door (to his wife’s office) and look up my record there. (She’s been my allergist since January/February of 1999, when I was actually allergic to every single allergy test she gave me. This was also around the time that I was allergic to only two medicines.) I know what drug sensitivities are like. I know how they work. I also know that this isn’t one, but I guess my lack-of-assertiveness-when-it-counts decided that I should just stroke his ego.

He wants me to be put on a shorter acting blood pressure pill which, considering the instability of my blood pressure, is probably a good idea. He also said that if when I get a rash, I should call his office right then and they will get me in that day for a biopsy. That’s great, but, like I said, these things can even happen at night. Is he proposing a biopsy at his office if this rash decides to pop up at two or three in the morning? Probably not. And it might be gone by the time his office opens up.

In the meantime, other than changing up my medicines, he wants me to wear sunscreen, long sleeves, and hats. I told him that I was familiar with sun-avoidance techniques. (Um, hello, I’ve been a ginger my whole life.) I don’t think that those techniques will do me any good indoors, especially since American sunscreens don’t help with visible light and long sleeves only lead to me overheating–even in the winter. So, yeah, his suggestions for that don’t really do me any good.

I really need to figure out how to get doctors to actually listen to me. I don’t think that will happen, though. Authority figures + me either ends with me feeling walked all over (this time) or me nearly going to jail for muttering obscenities at them.

In other news, I saw my best friend from third grade until about ninth or tenth grade at the office. She works in billing there. I said hi, but that was all I could say before my brain stopped functioning well enough to carry on a proper conversation. This is one of those people who has never really made me feel uncomfortable, but I just couldn’t interact with her. It was probably something to do with feeling all jittery after the appointment.  So I felt totally ridiculous trying to start a conversation with her and then having to run away before I ended up having a panic attack.  I don’t know why that makes me feel ridiculous. That’s all I have ever done. I just can’t handle people. At. All. Ever.


About Janet Morris

I'm from Huntsville, Alabama. I've got as many college credits as a doctorate candidate, and the GPA of some of them, too. I have a boss by the name of Amy Pond. She's a dachshund. My parents both grew up in Alabama.