Rash Decisions

It was all going so well. I finished with my third round of chemo. I still had (and have) my hair. No heart explosions. Not an extreme amount of hurling. I was home free…then it happened. Monday morning a funny-looking rash appeared on my neck and chest. By midday, I had tiny blisters on the back of my hands and fingers. By evening, my ankles, legs and arms were overrun and it itched like hell. I woke up scratching the larger area around my neck and chest until I drew blood. Damn. I had to call a doctor and be the 1% freak again. I feel like a medical shitshow. But whom should I call? Who handles rashes at 3 a.m.? I emailed Dr. F. He didn’t know what it could be, but I was to let him know what I found out. I made an appointment with Dr. M. and, of course, I emailed Dr. BAH, just in case her oncological researchy (not real words) genius came in handy. She opened a spot for me with PAL (Physician-assistant L) at Texas Oncology.

Some of you may know this is the week prior to our company’s biggest event of the year. Not a good time for an itchy rash or an emergency trip to the rash doctor. My co-workers were glad (feel the sarcasm) to see me leave the office in the middle of the day during our busiest week. By the time I left my office I had a rash along my hairline and on the sides of my nose. Nice. Luckily, I still have freckles that made the red marks seem questionable and confusing at first glance. But the scratching gave it away. Folks are very uncomfortable with mysterious scratching and I noticed them taking a few steps back when I talked with them. So, in the end, I think they were secretly ready for me to leave the office. I saw some of them starting to scratch as I left. Sympathetic rashing.

I met with PAL. She was great and very funny. She slyly asked me random questions while she examined my arms and hairline. In one easy movement, she wheeled her chair toward the door, holding one hand to her ear while stating that she thought she heard Dr. BAH’s shoes coming down the hall. She keeps tabs on Dr. BAH by listening for her shoes. She wanted to pull her in as they liked to study rashes together. Enter Dr. BAH. “Hey, you still have your hair, that’s a good sign.” And then, all at once a flurry of examinations began…shirt, skirt and hair lifting happened to me with mutters, pokes and hmms from the medical team. When they finished, I sat my disheveled self back down. They both looked me squarely in the eye and Dr. BAH confirmed that I indeed had a rash and it looked uncomfortable. Neither had ever seen this side-effect from Xeloda. She said it wasn’t shingles and I confirmed no changes in soaps and no poison ivy on my couch, which is where my nauseas ass was all weekend watching AX Men and Ice Road Truckers. Exit Dr. BAH and her locator shoes. More questions and humor from PAL. Steriods, lotion and no primary source. Sounds familiar. And I’m still itching.

I left TX Oncology with a rash. Just a rash, diagnosed by the best. As I left I noticed a woman who was so weak from her treatment her husband had to wheel her in a chair. I said hi and smiled at another woman with her family. She looked terrified, hell they all looked terrified. I’m sure I did on my first trip too. I wanted to tell them the same thing the young lady with no hair said to me in the elevator on my first visit there. “Don’t worry. You are in the right place and it’s not nearly as scary as you think. They’re awesome here.” And she was right.

In the meantime, I’ll take my rash, and my thinning hair, right back to a job I can still go to every day where people like me and put up with my crabby, steroid, chemo ass and incessant scratching that makes my co-workers uncomfortable. I’ll take my rash any day.

kisses,
Jan