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I'm sure you've been a wreck all day wondering about my appointment. It went well. Hopeful even. There was an awkward moment when he came in to greet me, but I won't get into that. I wore sandals, a black t-shirt (from Northern Sun that proclaims me as a HERETIC. While I was in the little room waiting for him, I played with myself in an anti-shrinkage bid. So he came in, we had that awkward moment, I turned my legs and arms for his view, said "No diagnosis, it's psoriasis. It's everywhere." And without his bidding I pulled off my shirt and took off my shorts. He got nervous, and while he went for the dreaded rubber gloves, I grabbed my dick and flipped it around with my finger wrapped down around behind my balls to massage the root and get some blood in there. Not shrinkage, but not where I'd rather to be. When he returned, I manipulated my own piece, pulling, stretching, inflating, pointing out this that and that other. He didn't need to fondle me, but he did anyway. I was not aroused.
A note on him. 50 something. Very graying. Wedding ring. (not that that means anything) Nice shoulders. Weird eyes. Do-able? Yes. Chase worthy? Not so much. Physicians can often have such a god complex. I popped his little delusion as soon as he'd uttered no more than 3 syllables. Then he was a little cowed until I worked a peerage between us. The banter began and he went out of his way to do more than I'm sure he would have done for anyone else.
We went over the options for my 'severe case' (as he called it). For the first effort we established a plan for which he wrote 5 scripts!
The center of the therapy is going to be light -- tanning -- which I'm already doing. The diff is that there are drugs for me to take before tanning that will make my whole body extremely sensitive to UV, sensitive enough that I'll have to start with tanning at ONE minute, then monitor and adjust. I'll also have to wear special (dorky) sunglasses after taking the pills or I'll get cataracts. When he told me this, I made an Annie Sullivan reference. I took a bit but eventually he got it. Or acted like he did. Had he not, I was prepared to spell it in his hand. He just gave me a pair. No charge.
Then came the unguents. One's a vitamin A thing to boost the effects of the other drug. (I referred to it to him as a 'beer and a bump'. That took him a few to catch, but he did, or acted like it.) There's also a liquid for my scalp. There's also an unguent that I haven't tried yet.
That last one was for a blood test. He sent me across the street for it.
When I went to the counter to pay, there in the back of the room, doing file related shit, was a young man. Late high school. Had to be. He had virtually black hair, a really hot dense and fast growing beard. Apart from the extensive stubble, he sported a goat. A real hot one. His shirt was three buttons open and fine fur appeared. And earrings, captive bead. Probably 12g. I wanted a taste. When I walked up to the counter he called out to "dad". So this is Dr. H's son? Well, Son of H and I caught eyes, for too long. Who wiped drool first? Hard to say.
Off to the blood test. I was greeted by a real hottie. I mean woof! What a bod! His forearms struck me as especially edible. Around 30 I guess. And another goat that begged to be nibbled. Before he even spoke, my gaydar went off. He also wore a wedding ring. Whatever.
I was asked if I'd eaten today at that point. I said, "No. No food." I had an Altoid in my mouth when I said that. One woman panicked. Miss Receptionist Goat Dude told her to get over it. They wouldn't be testing for sugar. I didn't say that I'd had a couple beers that morning. What that will do to the tests, we'll see.
The woman that drew the blood asked me about the tattoo on my wrist. It's his initials, but can be read 4 different ways. I told her it was someone very special to me. She said, "I hope that person stays special." I said, "Well, he's dead now, but I will never forget."
I don't like needles. I really don't. If the light treatment doesn't work, the next plan involves my giving myself a shot once a week, basically for the rest of my life. That idea sucks. Insulin shots may be in my future as well. That's another issue.
Off to my pharmacy and they had none of the 4 scripts. Great. The holiday weekend means I won't get anything till Tuesday. More great.
I'm hopeful. This is going to be a massive multi-pronged attack on this shit.
It's Friday. That means 'date night'. I noticed that the movie for tonight has already been selected (by the LO.) What's for supper? Don't know. I'd like to get a pizza, but about 5 years ago he had pizza before a migraine, ergo pizza is a migraine trigger. He's a hypochondriac like that. He won't eat liver anymore either. We loved liver. I still do. With peppers and onions? Lots of garlic? YUM!
Gotta go into work tomorrow, and when I get out from under the blizzard of paperwork that's going to hit me, I'm on vacation.
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encroaching increase of darkness - 2008-11-02
Bones - 2008-09-20
random bitchings and musings - 2008-07-09
Man with Huge Cock - 2008-07-04
Eric and other crazy shit - 2008-06-29
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