Yuck!

I’m a bit grossed out and disturbed.

I have a rash on my lower right leg. I’ve had a slight rash there for quite some time, but lately I’ve noticed it spreading, so I thought I should do something about it. But who has time to go to the doctor? Ok, I have time – let’s face it, I don’t actually do anything at work – but I don’t know if I can be bothered to sit around at the clinic for hours with annoying, waiting room people, to see a doctor who looks bored to see me and disappointed I don’t have a really jazzy disease. So I did the modern thing and surfed the Net. Nothing like a bit of self-diagnosis!

The thing is, descriptions of skin ailments aren’t terribly helpful without pictures. And the pictures! I swear for every ailment, they’ve chosen the wrinkliest, saggiest old men with the most advanced cases of skin festeration that they could find. Trust me, my rash doesn’t look anything like those pestilences. It’s just an innocent little pink thing!

I don’t trust those pictures. I picked up scabies once in Thailand; I had a few raised white bumps with black dots in the centre, on my wrist and creeping onto my forearm. Not nice. But it looked NOTHING the hideous, hideous photo of rotting humanity I found on the Internet.

I hope nobody in the office was watching the computer screen over my shoulder. Rumours could fly and I’d soon have a whole wing of the office to myself.