Wednesday, March 21, 2012

And then, My Dermatologist called me easy...

When I was fully clothed the whole time.

At the end of my visit today, he told me I was his easiest patient so far after he told me that whatever the fuck is growing on my chest probably isn't cancer.

I have some sort of colorless, scaly growth that appeared on my chest.  Relax, it's small and doesn't make me look like I have a goiter or anything.  However, my general practitioner was concerned enough to have it looked at and I am vain enough to want it off to the skin doc I went.  I mean, I did my share of tanning back in the 80's with babyoil.  To not keep an eye on skin issues would be stupid.

Anyway, he thinks it is something not cancerous that can be solved with a cortisone shot.  He asked me if I wanted it biopsied or wanted the shot.  I asked him if he was the expert that should make that call, or was I?  To which he acknowledged my point and suggested that I take the shot, and if the shit didn't clear up in two weeks THEN we needed to have a biopsy.  To which I agreed because I'm paying him a gazillion dollars a minute to tell me what to do.

And then, it got better.  A few months ago, I paid him a quarter of a gazillion dollars to walk in and get a not insurance covered cortisone shot in my head.  Why?  Because, I had somehow for whatever reason had a run in with alopecia, which caused a nickel sized bald spot in my scalp.  And being vain, I ran to him and he suggested, it turns out, the exact same shot of cortisone.  Which worked because my hair grew back.  At which point when he told me today that I would be getting the exact same shot, I told him that if I started growing hair on my chest he was in trouble.  I'm his easiest patient of the day?  No wonder he charges a gazillion dollars an hour.

So we'll see how all of that goes.

In the meantime, my go to treatment for anything will be Clorox because of this sequence of events:

Me:  Dammit, I just burnt my hand on the oven element.

Ted:  Put some Clorox on it Baby.

Me:  ???

Ted:  That's right, bleach.  Nothing is gonna survive that shit.

Fastforward me recently at my General Practitioner for some sort of nail fungus/issue:

Me:  Yeah, so my nail ends are all yellow and the nails hurt.

GP:  But, it's at the end of your nails.

Me:  I want to rip my nails out of my fingers.

GP:  It's not coming from your nail beds like a normal fungus.

Me:  I don't do anything normal.

GP:  I would change up my mani/pedi place and Clorox your nails.

Me:  You're kidding right?

Ted:  I told you.

The good news is, I probably don't have skin cancer.  And if I do, I'm going to Clorox the crap out of it just in case.


  1. So now Ted can bleach his bunghole in the name of Rectal Cancer Prevention?

  2. Paul Deen's get six million to exploit her diabetes and Do you think that Clorox is paying ME... Fuck no.