...with a heaping side of anger. That pretty much describes my state of mind right now. It's amazing, how quickly four months of determined progress got swept away in the blink of an eye. I'm still not quite sure how it happened. It started with a scaly rash on my forehead. Then the boil appeared between my nose and eye. Then another boil. Then an itchy, swollen eyelid, which quickly turned into two lizard-textured ocular skin flaps. Four more massive boils appeared on my face and before I knew it, the texture of my skin rivaled puffy, flaking 40-grit sandpaper.
This hostile takeover has taken about a week and a half, but have I seen a doctor yet? When I finally relented and called my dermatologist yesterday the receptionist apologized profusely for not being able to squeeze me in immediately, and recommended I go to urgent care. I suppose when I laughed and told her I have chronic illness and don't get too hyper about health problems, it earned me a "difficult patient" mark on my chart. Which I don't really care about, that's how bitter I am. Because I am fully expecting my doctor to tell me there is...nothing wrong with me. Besides looking like the Elephant Man, that is. But the last thing I expect is for my doctor to actually help me, take me seriously or, gasp of all gasps, diagnose me.
Clearly this is an absurd perspective, but my PTSD surrounding anything health or doctor related is so explosive, I'm actually plotting my own demise over here. It's far easier than expecting anything else to change, since it never does. Maybe for a minute, but doesn't it always come back to me being sick and inept and miserable? My husband keeps reminding me this may be something "normal" and if I don't go to the doctor I won't ever know. How many times have I heard that one before? But I now look so deformed I don't have much of an option. And the itching, heavens to Betsy, the itching! My emotions have the stability of the Richter Scale in a 10 point earthquake, and anytime anyone asks me how I am, I start crying and freaking out like humanity is coming to an end. Which I really do feel like it is. So...back to isolation mode I go. I can't deal with this world. I can't deal with people, doctors, illness, concern or medical bills. I can't deal with trying to make people understand my reality. And I most certainly cannot deal with the rash consuming my face!
Thanks for joining,
Leah
