Mr. Les goes to the Dermatologist...

As I was walking into the Physical Therapy building, I got a telephone call from the new dermatologist's office. They wanted to know if I wouldn't mind coming in earlier in the day. My original appointment was at 3:00pm and they wanted to move it up to 11:00am. Fine with me, I told the very pleasant sounding voice on the other end of the line. The dermatologist's office was only four blocks away. After a particularly sorry effort on my part at PT I headed to the dermatologist.

I had a bit of a problem finding the place though. For the first time ever my MapQuest print out confused me. To make a long story short, I had trouble because the back side of the building faces the street and not the front side/entrance. Leave it to this town to build a fairly new huge building and neglect to consider that it might be easier to find if the front of it faced the street. Once inside a security desk post adolescent directed me to the second floor.

I introduced myself to the desk person at the doctor's office and for a couple moments thought that he was hard of hearing or something. He glanced up for only a split second after I announced myself and began to type. I awkwardly stood their wondering if I should put my rusty basic sign language skills to work. I checked out his ears for devices and saw none. Just as I was about to speak he said, "you're all set." "All set," for what? I asked should I take a seat in the waiting area and he said, "I'll let them know you are here," as if it were a great chore.

I turned about and glanced the large area for a seat. The room was pretty full. How about... next to grandma in the back? Her expression and glance suggested I should think better. How about next to the 20 something Italian, Hip Hop lad with the crooked baseball cap and sleeve tattoos? Nope, both he and his mom gave me that kids at the cool table tenth grade stare. It's never been easy being a geek. Moving right along, how about next to granny with dementia in the wheelchair? Her caregiver had turned three chairs into a bed and was napping. "Good help," I thought. Next to sleeping beauty caregiver in scrubs was a good looking guy and his two daughters of about 7 and 9 I imagine. Next to the youngest daughter was an end seat so I took that. The young family all smiled broadly and I did the same. I was facing the barely verbal check-in dude who glared disapprovingly so, I looked away. I then noticed the unfortunate man pacing. He was huge! I'd say roughly 6'4" with a great gut that must have extended a full two feet from his body. His facial expression and the pacing back and forth (about a foot from me) all said that every one in the room should probably thank their lucky stars that this guy was heavily medicated. He would continue to pace for the next 45 minutes until his name was called. Boy did he make me uncomfortable. I tried my best to ignore him for fear that I might do that thing where words in my head come out of my mouth unfiltered. I've learned the hard way that when you say something like, "sit the f**K down you crazy bastard," their are no takezeebackzees. After they called his name I looked behind me curious as to who had brought him. The room was almost empty except for mean grandma and the young family so, I guess he must have come alone. Unsettling.

Just to back track a bit, I was distracted from the man's pacing by poor granny in the wheelchair who asked little Ia and Sarah's their names a dozen times or more. Her caregiver was still resting, resting even when the old gal lifted her tee shirt to her nose to blow into it exposing her bra. Sorry granny you did earn your beads but, instead I will look quickly away. -A pillar of salt and all that. I unfortunately made eye contact with the dad of the little girls who was bright pink and grinning. He had also seen what caused my temporary blindness. He took this as his cue to switch seats with little Ia and introduce himself. I don't remember his name at this writing. He did tell me that he had just come from Iraq, his homeland. He was very friendly and had what appeared to be introductory questions. Did I love George Bush; Did I love New York; Did I know of Detroit and Did I love Iraq? -Like I love all this country's presidents; most definitely!, yes, and huh? He went on to tell me in his very limited English that war torn Iraq looked just like the city of Detroit. I was only there a couple times in the eighties and never to Iraq, so I smiled as if I got the joke. He said it again and seemed even more entertained. He wants to move to London he told me. He asked if I had daughters and I told him, no. He pointed at one of his and said, "you can have this one but, I warn you... she is crazy." Ia who was resting her head on his lap looked up as if her name had been called and then slowly put it down again. I joking told him that in that case I would prefer the other daughter. He said, "no, I like that one." I guess you had to be there...

Speaking of name calling, mine was... I made a point of looking over at the sign that somehow guaranteed less than a twenty minute wait and then back at the nurse. I had been an hour wait. She apologized. BTW: I know this all sounds a bit free-clinicesque but, it's actually some levels above that. I have to run so, I will fast forward here. The new dermatologist was brilliant, absolutely brilliant! Apparently, the old dermatologist horribly misdiagnosed me two years ago which is why her prescription only made the rash look better and did not actually make it go away. I was all but called a whiner for pointing this out on occasion. Anywho, in two weeks it will be all gone forever, I am told. The insurance covered the cost of the prescription's cost which would have been $276.00 for a 30g tube of healing. Can you say health care reform? Well, you will have to say it another time because I am out of here.