So. It's raining a lot in LA right now. A lot a lot. So much rain that highways are being closed, houses are being evacuated and oh, also? I have a rash. Because of the rain.
This morning I had a pre-scheduled doctor's appointment for a regular monthly check-up on my various medications (that's right folks, I've go the drug regimen of a divorcee circa 1997). I love my doctor. Been seeing her since when I first moved out to LA. We're tight.
Right after she tells me all my vitals are looking great as usual yada yada yada I say to her:
"Yo I have some sort of crazy rash all over my upper body." Which is true. A few days ago I noticed a weird mark on my back (two of my friends said it almost looked like a spider bite, however the general consensus was ringworm. Spoiler alert: it's not ringworm).
Dr. G takes one look at me, says "I need to see your back" turns me around, takes a quick look and goes:
"Yep, you have Pityriasis Rosacea,"
"Pityriasis Rosacea. That mark on your back there is the herald mark. It's a rash you get once in your lifetime, usually lasts 4-6 weeks, and that mark precedes it."
"So you're saying it's going to get worse."
"Yes. It will be everywhere except your face, your hands, and the soles of your feet. And it will itch a lot. But don't scratch it."
"Okay. Why did I get it?"
"It's usually caused by periods of extreme stress or massive changes in the weather. Are you under high stress?"
"Then it's weather."
"Okay so my room is sort of not insulated..." (This is true. I live in the studio room, which lacks insulation, and as of yesterday had a leak).
"Yep that's not helping. It's the rain. As soon as it's sunny again you'll start feeling better. The UV will help."
"So can I go tanning?"
"Oh, why? Will that make it worse?"
"No. You'll get cancer."
"I'll prescribe you some medicine to help the itchiness. But it's going to last for about a month. It's like the Chicken Pox but not contagious."
Awesome. Just awesome.
On a side note, I did some research. Apparently UV light can help. Don't tell Dr. G but I'm going tanning. I mean, this shit is freaky. And my herald mark is in the exact spot equivalent of a tramp stamp. I could probably get some good cash busking on the streets of the Jersey Shore.
Now I'm going to douse myself in calamine lotion and alternate between crying and laughing at the sweet sweet irony of it all.