I had an appointment with the dermatologist yesterday afternoon.
But I called and changed it to an open one.
I think I am good.
I'd like to think that, PTL, I shall continue to be good.
And maybe someone on the wait list would be better blessed being able to see the doctor on an (urgent) basis, compared to someone who no longer needs a consultation except to ask whether or not she can now put on vegan nail polish.
I'm not being sarcastic.
Two months ago I was the former.
And trust me, I haven't forgotten the immense relief I felt when, after having failed to get an emergency appointment with a few derma clinics, a call came in saying that a slot had opened up and would I be able to come down right away.
There is no time to waste when you have been suffering for six whole days.
I don't know the exact day when symptoms first started to show.
I just know that it was early May and that the first symptom was a huge blister on my left heel.
Here's the thing.
I don't know what caused it.
I don't know how it got there.
I thought it was a mere skin friction so left it alone.
But it didn't go away.
On hindsight now, it might have been that I'd gotten heaty and that unbalance in the body had somehow triggered awake the (old) chicken pox/measles virus from my childhood.
It might also have been that immunity levels were low at that point in time, and having had added stress on multiple fronts etc etc etc, everything just exploded in a massive outbreak that attacked the lymphatic system, the nervous system, the nerves underneath the skin, and the largest organ in the body- the skin itself.
To have to endure such an affliction was a terrible, terrible experience.
For days my fingers were swollen.
So were my feet.
It was hard to walk.
It was hard to write.
It was even hard to type.
The itch, in particular, was unbearable.
In my life I have had restless nights.
I have had also sleepless nights.
But never have I ever been woken up in the still of the night by a persistent deep itch that went deep into your hands, your feet, the spaces between your fingers and the spaces between your toes.
It wasn't an itch that a good scratch could make it go away.
Instead it was an itch where the more you scratched the stronger it got.
Nothing I attempted (on my own) brought relief.
It got to a phase where I found myself scratching my hands on the edge of the table and on the doorknob.
It got to a phase where whilst having dinner I involuntarily started scratching the sides of my feet on the edge of the plastic stool that I was sitting on.
I've used pens, I've used rulers, I've even used the cap of a pharmacy-bought steroid cream.
You may be wondering why with all this discomfort I didn't go to see a doctor.
I did.
But because treatment was progressive, it was a GP that I first saw.
She was as good as a GP is, but I had (stupidly) refused antihistamines, and the prescribed steroid cream turned out to be less effective than I'd hoped it to be.
Let's just say it was a very long weekend.
Not that the medication didn't work.
It did- to an extent where I felt well enough to go out for a quick dinner but then not so well after that when upon reaching home, I had to soak my feet in a pail of oats-blended water.
It wasn't just the unbearable, torturous itch I had to deal with.
There were the red spots and red patches that had spread like wlldfire all over my arms, my legs, my hands and my feet.
There were bubble-like rashes all along the length of my fingers and my toes, there was crusted skin on my ankle, plus the many red, angry blisters that had sprouted over the soles of my feet, parts of my fingers, and sections of my palms.
With all this happening, how could it not be a relief when at the dermatologist I finally found out what the condition was, and what was going on?
Of course, there was the obligatory warning that it might be something more than (just) an inflammation, but still it was good to know that whatever it was, it wasn't something that couldn't be tackled nor handled.
More than that, I didn't need to be brave in front of her.
I told her how sad and horrified I had been to see my nail-polish ready hands turn swollen and ugly in less than a day.
She understood.
It was mid May when I went to see her.
It is mid July now.
In the last two months I've come to understand more of immunity systems and the way they affect our long-term health (not just when I have a cold).
I've come to understand how our nervous system works, how it is connected to the state of our mental health, and how the sensitivity of our nerves can affect our day to day life.
In a way, I have come to appreciate further the importance of TCM, of foot reflexology, of yin-yang balance, of those lymphatic massages we see in spa menus, and how the release of meridian points can mark the starting point to recovery, and overall well being.
Of course, I am now more familiar with 'dermatologist-recommended' skincare products, skincare brands, what sort of stuff is meant for sensitive skin and what sort of stuff is meant for inflammatory issues like mine had been.
I know how it is to cry from pain whilst using harsh soaps in the shower.
I know how it is to be afraid to go to sleep because you don't know whether you will have a good night's sleep or whether you will wake three hours before your usual time, and you do not know whether you will wake feeling okay, or with swollen hands, itchy feet and uncomfortable elbows because your lymph nodes are jammed and your blood circulation is poor.
I now look at elderly persons suffering from swollen, arthritic joints with an empathetic eye.
And with the same eye I throw upon those who feel dirty from inside out because the sight of discolored patches on their skin cannot make them feel otherwise.
This was a season where little things that never used to bother me.
Like wondering whether the soap in the mall's restroom was too harsh for me and should I wash my hands.
Like having to tackle the problem of dry, peeling skin on my hands whilst on the airconditioned bus or in the airconditioned supermarket when in minus two degree winter weather I never had to deal with it before.
Am much better now, thankfully.
I've completed the entire course of oral steroid medication as well as the entire box of antihistamines.
I've used up two full tubs of Aveeno Intense Moisture Cream.
And the inventory now stands at 1.5 tubes of (stronger) steroid cream, half a bottle of soapless antiseptic body wash, half a bottle of Rosken Very Dry lotion, one bottle of Nivea Deep Moisture, and whatever's left of the Dr. Hedison skincare collection which my colleague pulled out from the storerooms and admonished me to go use it.
There have been many observations and many lessons picked up during this season, but if there're things that stick out in the mind still, it is that I've now come to understand the importance of emotional congruency (some call it self love) and the critical need to never, ever ignore calls of help from my mind, and my body.