I feel dirty.
So very, very dirty.
But at least I’m not dying.
On Thursday morning, I began to grow quite concerned, as what I thought was a pimple on my jaw line, had grown into something that looked pretty abnormal. After some WebMD research, I determined it to be nodular melanoma, the deadliest skin cancer of all, with less than a 25% survival rate.
Before you roll your eyes I should explain that melanoma isn’t too far of a stretch for me. I’ve had over twenty pre-cancerous and dysplastic moles removed, including one that required a day surgery to extract a golf-ball sized patch of skin, even after the mole had been removed. I’m genetically predisposed to be in the absolute highest risk group for skin cancer. Add to this the fact that I used to work at a tanning salon, where I would fake and bake on a regular basis, and you’ve got a recipe for disaster.
Out of sheer panic, I called Scott to let him know I didn’t have much time left on the clock. He let out an annoyed sigh and suggested I schedule an appointment with my doctor if I was that worried about it.
I then began to send frantic text messages.
By 6pm, the growth had turned scaly. Things were not looking good. I started selecting hymns to be sung at my funeral and showed my melanoma to Scott the instant he came through the door.
“That’s not melanoma.” he said with a snicker.
“Then what is it?” I fearfully asked.
He paused dramatically, a sly grin spreading across his cheeks.
This has really not been my month.
If you’re not familiar with ringworm (and let’s hope you aren’t), here’s a brief description courtesy of Wikipedia.
Dermatophytosis or ringworm is a clinical condition caused by fungal infection of the skin in humans, pets such as cats, and domesticated animals such as sheep and cattle. The term “ringworm” is a misnomer, since the condition is caused by fungi of several different species and not by parasitic worms.
So the good news is that I don’t have parasitic worms.
The bad news is I have slightly more in common with sheep and cattle than I’m comfortable with.
So how did I contract this…fungus?
It’s very common among wrestlers, whose skin is exposed to bacteria laden mats during their workouts — it basically travels from skin, to mat, to skin.
Unbenounced to me, Scott picked up his own case of ringworm from the gym where he wrestles and transferred it to me.
That’s right. He’s wrestling again.
You’d think breaking his neck would be enough to discourage him from the sport.
And that’s where you’d be wrong.
If a spinal fusion wasn’t enough of a deterrent, I’m pretty sure this “mat herpes” episode won’t even phase him.
But that’s not what upsets me.
What upsets me is that somewhere in the greater Seattle area, there is a man whose nasty, rancid sweat somehow traveled long and far from the deep, dark crevices of his body into my little world.
And then it manifested itself as a fungus.
That lives on my face.
Sorry…I had to go throw up for a second. Don’t worry, I’m better now.
As this is not the first time we’ve had ring worm, (I’m not even going to discuss the 2006 incident) Scott has a topical steroid on-hand that should clear things up in a couple of days.
I suppose all of this is what I deserve for being a jerk when I’m asleep.
Universe, I am not amused.
But my husband sure is.
Why do I get the feeling no one is going to want to sit next to me at lunch tomorrow?