It has not been a banner week for me. The kids went back to school, that part was okay (no overly soppy, tearful me for once), but I have been dealing with an itchy rash covering my stomach, back, and neck, and which is starting to creep down each of my limbs. The rash showed up last Thursday and neither two nurses I talked to on the phone nor the entire Internet had anything helpful to say, other than hm, that’s weird.
I will spare you the pictures because yes, I have taken pictures, but will also tell you that if you’d like to see pictures of rashes, the Internet is overly ready to help out with that one.
Then I went for a run yesterday and had to pull over twice for explosive you-know-what. Twice! Fortunately, my run took me past several public facilities placed there just for such moments in life. (Don’t forget to support your public library!)
I was standing at the bus stop yesterday, waiting for my neighbor to show up so I could unload all this on somebody else, and when she came up I said, “Hey, do you smell dog poop?” We looked down to see that I was standing in a colossal, I meal colossal pile of dog poop. Like, my entire shoe was like a hot dog nestled in a dog poop bun.
It’s just a shi**y week, I guess.
I came home desperate for a shower, feeling so dirty and disgusted by myself and all dog owners everywhere, and the minute the water hit my rashy torso, I could no longer resist the urge to scratch. I stood in the shower for ten minutes and scratched and scratched and scratched and came out feeling cleaner but looking like a giant hunk of wet ground beef. That’s me. Bringin’ sexy back.
I did make to do an IRL doctor today who took one look at my “trunk,” which is the least sexy way to describe your mid section, but that’s the word he used, and said, “Oh…I see. I bet nothing you’ve done has made this rash feel better, right?”
“Right!” I said, glad someone finally knew something about what has been plaguing my “trunk” this past week and glad I would finally figure out how to get some relief from all this itching.
“You’ve got pityriasis rosea. There’s nothing you can do for it. It should clear up anywhere between 6 weeks and 3 months.”
That is the worst punch line I’ve ever heard.
But look on the bright side! It’s not contagious, swim suit season ended the day the rash showed up, and it probably won’t spread to my face. Plus, now I have just 5 to 11 weeks left to wait out this virus that starts with the word “pity.” You know, as in it’s a pity there’s not a DAMN THING I CAN DO ABOUT IT.
And now my face is itchy.
WHAT’S COOKIN’ 2NITE:
Gnocchi with browned butter sauce
Salad with grilled shrimp, orange, and fennel