I spent the last week fully convinced that I had MRSA. You should not be surprised to learn that my primary concern was not imminent doom, but how to get rid of it before my gynecologist appointment on Thursday. Seriously, nobody wants -anything- gross going on that particular day. Especially since a disgusting skin disease is not going to help in my attempt to convince Dr. K that I need some form of permanent (or at least semi-permanent) birth control. In case you're holding your breath, I'll just tell you in advance that this will be a failed attempt. I've tried every year for the past 5 years. You'd think that the fact that I've been consistent in my demands requests would be a good indicator that I won't wake up one day and say "hey, I think I'll have my tubal reversed!"

In any case I do not have MRSA, just some sort of contact dermatitis from either the harsh detergent that they use on my work scrubs or possibly my shaving cream. A little hydrocortisone cream seems to have (mostly) cleared it up. Continued care and I won't feel compelled to wear legwarmers to my doctor's appointment. Or maybe I will. The 80's are coming back, right?

1 comment:

Brinkley said...

I thought the second pic was you too and freaked out!