For the last several months there has been a small knot on my scalp. The last time she was here, Sister K checked it out and decided that it was just another depressing sign of aging; yet another mole on Rae Ann's amazing Mole Farm. Then last week, it ballooned up into this huge painful lump. It was like a squirrel had burried an acorn under my scalp. OUCH!
Dr. Dad-in-Law looked at it and declared it to be a boil. A boil? I was horrified. I thought only dirty people got boils. I mean, I know my standards of hygeine have slipped, but a boil? Really?
I went to the dermatologist today. She said that it was a very irritated pilar cyst and referred me to a plastic surgeon to have it removed. Huh. Basically it is a pocket of the kind of cells like you have in the bottom of your hair follicles that has run amok. Blarg. The plastic surgeon will also look at/remove my witch's mole on my chin. Yay!
Dr. P, who is NOT the nazi some of her online reviewers suggested, said that my skin was "pretty good." And that she didn't say that to very many people. She was very thorough in her exam. She flopped boobs and checked creases with amazing speed. She said that I have some minor sun damage and, sigh, rosacea. And Rae Ann makes three: my sisters have rosacea, too. Damn genes.
I guess now I will actually have to take care of my skin. It figures. I had perfect skin as an adolescent. Now I get to fight it as an adult. Whee.
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