Adventures in Skin and Self-Care (Blog #211)

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Praise the lord. I’ve actually felt better today–not perfect, but better. Maybe it’s the new sinus irrigation technique I started last night, or maybe it’s the fact that I used my dad voice with my immune system in yesterday’s blog. It’s time you start pulling your weight around here, young man. Either way, I’ve had less crud today, haven’t been coughing as much, and have had more energy. Maybe I’m not going to die after all and am headed in the right direction–toward recovery. I’ll let you know how it goes.

This morning I went to Johnson Dermatology in Fort Smith for my somewhat-annual checkup. A few years ago I had a case of warts (on my pretty face!) that wouldn’t go away, so I went once a month for over a year to have them burned off. (Ouch.) Anyway, the warts finally cleared up, and by the time they did, I felt like part of the furniture. I was friendly with the staff, knew where all the restrooms were, and basically had my own parking space–it was like an episode of Cheers, except with skin problems instead of nachos and beer. Anyway, going to the doctor usually makes me nervous, but today felt like going home again. Well, other than the fact that Mom and Dad don’t ask for my insurance information as soon as I walk through the front door.

My skin care wizard today was Nina, and she was super patient. When I asked about my body odor problem (which is pretty much over now) and told her all the things I tried from the internet in order to get rid of it, I think she only rolled her eyes once. Anyway, she said the problem was most likely due to the high number of antibiotics I’ve been on this year. She also said that was probably the reason I got folliculitis (inflammation of the hair follicles) around my nipples a couple of weeks ago. I mean, my being in a hot tub obviously had something to do with it, but she said my immune system and good bacteria were probably “compromised.” (Alert, there’s been a breach in security.) She also said that although my folliculitis is better, the reason it isn’t completely gone is because it’s fungal and not bacterial.

Strike one for the emergency room doctor.

So I guess for the next week or two I’ll continue rubbing cream on my nipples. Not that I’m complaining. There are certainly less enjoyable things to do in life.

I don’t know if you realized this about me, but I have a lot of moles. I know, I know–I wear them well, so this information may come as a shock. But it’s true. The doctors say I have “over fifty,” which I’m assuming qualifies as a plethora. Anyway, for as long as I can remember, the only bumpy or raised moles I’ve had have been on my head, where I and only I would notice or give a shit. Still, catching my comb on a mole drives me crazy, so I asked Nina if we could remove some today. She said yes, so now I literally have not one, but three new holes in my head.

Incidentally, they take off moles with a razor blade–uh–like the kind you buy at the hardware store to cut through carpet or a cardboard box. Granted, they numb you first, but then they just scrape your skin directly off–whoosh–slice right through it as if it were a block of hard cheese. Next thing you know either you or your insurance is considerably poorer, and something you carried around on your body for over a decade is in an envelope on its way to be analyzed at a lab in Poughkeepsie.

Like, there goes a part of me, via FedEx.

The cream Nina prescribed for my folliculitis is being mailed to me, so it won’t arrive until next week. Being the hypochondriac I am, I’m hoping my nipples won’t fall off before then. I mean, I’ve grown rather attached to them. (Or is it the other way around?) Anyway, tonight I took a shower with special soap, applied what cream I have to my nipples, then had Mom put Vaseline on the mole-holes in my head to encourage healing. I’ve had moles removed before, so this will be our routine for the next couple weeks. At first it will seem like a nuisance, then it will simply be part of our routine, and then it will be over. Perhaps one day we’ll sit and recollect about it–those two weeks I sat on the floor while Mom sat in her chair battling cancer and helping me take care of my skin.

Nothing physical was ever meant to stay the same.

Tonight I’m reminded that things get worse and things get better. One day you wake up sick, spend two weeks feeling like crap, then at some point know you’ve turned a corner. Something about your body bothers you for years on end, then just like that it’s gone with a razor blade and the flick of a wrist. Other problems hang around–maybe they’ll be gone next week and maybe they won’t. Caroline Myss says we’re always healing something. This, of course, means that problems come and go because nothing physical was ever meant to stay the same. This also means we always have room to grow. For surely even the smallest irritations bring us into the present moment, prompt us to ask for help and connect with others, and encourage us to be more caring for ourselves.

Now if you’ll excuse me, my nipples are calling.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Nothing is set in stone here.

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Wait a Damn Minute (Blog #210)

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Twelve days into the crud, I’m convinced I’m never going to feel like a human again. I’m exaggerating, but every time I cough, I assume, This is it–I’m going to die. Oh well, it’s been a good run. It’s times like these that I particularly hate Facebook, the place where every boy has a six-pack, every girl has a boy who has a six-pack, and everyone’s at an outdoor concert doing jumping jacks and drinking a pumpkin-spice something-or-other. I know this isn’t reality, but whenever you’re sick, it feels as if everyone else’s life is better than yours. I always hate feeling this way because it reminds me just how little control I have over my circumstances. A few bacteria invite themselves over to my sinuses for a party, bring along some of their friends, and I’m toast.

I keep assuming that at some point my immune system will recognize there’s a problem and do something about it. A little over seven years ago, I had a stomach virus of Biblical proportions. Everything that went in went out, and I spent a solid ten days either in bed or in the bathroom. I was convinced I was dying, but then one day things settled down. It wasn’t a miracle–in fact, it took months before I felt like myself again–but there was definitely a shift. I still remember the pair of pants I wore the first time I was able to leave the house–it was that big of a deal. Anyway, I don’t know why it took so long for my body to say, “Wait a damn minute” and mobilize my white blood cells, but it did.

Whenever I’m sick like this, I feel totally vulnerable. By that, I mean I feel like a sucker, like any cape-wearing charlatan with a bottle of snake oil could roll into town and take all my savings. Tonight I’ve looked at websites for probiotics, prebiotics, liquid collagen, and yoga. The assumption, of course, is that any or all of these things would make me healthier, but the truth is I’d probably be disappointed, since I’ve tried most of them before. I remind myself of this, then my mind says, But you haven’t tried THAT product, THAT yoga class.

Quick, someone give me two Tylenol and tell me to go to bed before I end up broke.

The upside to feeling like the junk on the bottom of my shoes is that I don’t have much of an appetite and have apparently lost five pounds. And not that I want this crap to hang on for another twelve days, but if it does, I should reach my ideal weight. As the guru I met recently said, “For every downside, there’s an upside.” So the silver lining is this incident has given me a renewed interest in taking better care of myself. You know–less whiskey, more Wheaties.

This evening I went to improv class, and one of the girls called me “basic” when my ideas apparently weren’t meeting her superior standards. (Basic means lame, boring, and not cool, Mom.) I laughed about the comment at the time, but later thought, Bitch, you don’t know me. I’m doing the best I can over here. Seriously, I wish I could tell you that I was so spiritually evolved that an incident (or even possible misunderstanding) like this didn’t hit a nerve, but I can’t. Granted, on the scale of things that are going to eff me up for the rest of my life, this one comment from a teenager ranks pretty low, but we’re obviously still talking about it. Mostly I’d just like to say I now have two thousand AND ONE reasons to be glad I’m no longer in high school.

One of the games we played tonight involved two characters who could only say two lines each and one character who could say anything. In one sketch I was an employee at a Halloween costume store, and I could only say, “I quit,” or, “Just kidding.” I didn’t pick these lines out myself, but they’re a pretty good representation of how I feel about life on days like today. I quit, I quit, I quit.

Just kidding.

Everything you’re going through is normal.

I guess we all have days when life (or death) feels like it’s going to get the better of us. We compare ourselves to others, even to how we used to feel, and we think we need to be different than we are in this moment. In an effort to transform immediately, we’ll try anything, buy anything. Just a few moments ago I stopped writing to do another sinus irrigation, this time with Betadine, since I hadn’t tried THAT yet. (If you’re wondering, it felt better than hydrogen peroxide, baby shampoo, and honey.) Sometimes I give myself a hard time for using home remedies like these. I feel gullible when they don’t work, and I start beating myself up for being sick in the first place, for not having all the answers, for being “basic.” But the truth is everything I’m going through is normal–that’s what basic really means, and what’s wrong with that? After all–health and feelings that come and go–this is what life looks like–wanting to quit, but then saying, “Wait a damn minute,” and finding a reason to hope again.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

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Sometimes we move with grace and sometimes we move with struggle. But at some point, standing still is no longer good enough.

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