Termial ugliness

Since last week, I have strange dark patches of rough skin on my shoulders. My SHOULDERS. My most valued and unique body asset. I didn’t panic for the whole week, because I’m almost sure I had something similar twice and it did go away. But it was smaller. Did it really look the same? I should have taken pictures. It’s not psoriasis.

Call me simple-minded but I did google it. The only pics I can relate them to is a type of rash diabetic people get. They mostly get it in their fat folds, but I’m slim, it’s not really on a fold, and I have no sign of diabeties. Two other types of people also get this rash: people with androgen imbalance that could lead to a serious ovary illness and then diabeties (I do suspect having androgen imbalance even without this), and people with gastric cancer (I did have some hemorrhoid issues this week). I went through the list of horrifying scenarios, oscillating from detachment to a vague dread.

“Oh, okay, I might have to suffer terribly. Oh, okay, I might have to live (or die) with it. Oh okay, I might go through very dark mental places. Let’s get blood tests and find out. I feel fine for now.”

I congratulated myself for this appropriate-moderate reaction and lack of suffocating anxiety attack.

But THEN. I went across a line saying “the rash can take years to get rid of”. Immediately, I felt my cheeks heat up and my heart race. I had no such physical reaction while reading death sentences. Ladies and gentlemen, I fear having something ugly on me more than going through agony. Pretty sure the actual process of just having ugly on me forever would feel much better then agonizing forever though. But still. Very, very interesting.

I might dive deeper into this tomorrow, I have a lot to say but it’s already late.