Count one for the good guys!

I finally saw the dermatologist on Monday afternoon.  As I had been told to expect, her initial assessment of my problem was dry skin, and she gave me some  guidelines of minimal value to me as a diagnosis.  When I showed her the fiber samples I had brought, still attached to skin from the wounds, she said they looked like regular clothing fibers.  I asked her if all umpteen thousand of us were wearing red pants one day — perfectly seriously, and I stuck with it until she answered me that she just didn’t know.

She suggested that I see a psychiatrist.  I told her I didn’t think there were bugs under my skin, and she had just seen the fibers which, whether she believed it or not, came from under my skin.  I wasn’t and am not delusional.  She backed off a little, and then told me that a psychiatrist should be able to give me something to stop me scratching.  She was talking about atavan, Xanax, and Klonopin, which finally pissed me off enough to interrupt her.  I told her that depression, not anxiety was my diagnosis, and that I would not take drugs to slow me down and dull my mind.

One good thing:  she never lost her patience, and listened to my reason for saying things like those above.  Finally, she said that I had dry skin, that I needed a mild sedative, and that I should see a shrink.

She walked out, and by the time I got to the checkout desk, I was a little angry.  I told the nurse that I wanted to see the doctor again — eventually she came back in the room.  I looked her in the eye and said, “So you’ve told me what this isn’t.  I want to know what it is, so we are going to do some testing.”  We discussed biopsy; by this time she was getting frustrated, but I stuck to my guns.  They made me wait in the waiting room for about 1 1/2 hours, and then called me back into the room.  I showed her some fresh spots that I hadn’t scratched, and she took out a plug of skin, including those three spots.

The biopsy was painless; reminds me of when the dentist pulled my tooth.  I laid on the table, and suddenly the job was over.  No healing trouble so far at the site — I haven’t touched it except to put Vaseline on the outside.  Now I am on pins and needles to get the results.  Till then, I am just holding on and waiting, waiting, waiting.

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3 responses to “Count one for the good guys!

  1. It is so hard to stick up for yourself when you don’t have someone at your back….I hope you felt all of us there with you, Jack!

    • You bet I did, buddy — you guys inspired me to ask to see the doctor again, rather than just leave mad. Thanks so much!!! Love you, buddy!

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