Am forever humiliated and traumatized

So today.

Soon after awakening, I noticed this weird … stripe … on my forearm. It was brownish. Kind of shiny.

I took a shower and half of it peeled away.

Odd, I thought. Perhaps I should have this checked out.

OK, that’s the varnished version.

Reality: OMG, I have that flesh-eating bacteria thingy-infection! WILL BE DISFIGURED AND POSSIBLY DEAD WITHIN 24 HOURS!!!! HELP ME!!!!

So I called my family physician and made an appointment.

By the time I arrived at work, however, I was having second thoughts.

“What does this look like to you?” I asked my friends Amy and Cindy (Mom on a Wire).

“A burn,” Amy declared. “Did you get drunk and try to curl your hair?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “Like, in college.”

Cindy commenced Googling.

“I don’t know, Cathy. Maybe you should keep that appointment. I mean, I don’t want to freak you out, but some staph infections do peel.”

Of course, I then began Googling and promptly diagnosed myself with A.) Scalded-skin staph or B.) Flesh-eating bacterial infection.

The photos were horrifying.

“I’m keeping my appointment,” I informed my friends.

And so at 2 p.m. I was summoned by a nurse back to an exam room.

“So, what seems to be the problem?” she asked.

“This!” I declared, brandishing my arm.

She did not look impressed.

Minutes later, my doctor entered.

He looked at my decaying flesh, then said, “This looks like a burn.”

“But I haven’t burned myself,” I said.

“No, it looks like some sort of friction burn. Like rope. Or, maybe … carpet?”

At this point, most patients would realize that their doctor thinks they’ve been engaging in some sort of S&M sex.

But me?

Well, I remained adorably naive. Ha.

“Well, I lug a lot of stuff around. Maybe it was one of my tote bags.”

My doctor looked skeptical.

“Have you been rappelling?” he inquired.


“Of course not!” I replied.

At which point he dropped the subject, slathered my arm in some cream and told me I did not have staph.

Only upon leaving the office did I realize: Ohhhhhh.

My doctor thinks that either A.) Hubs and I are employing rope in our marital bed or B.) We decided to take it to the floor.

Am forever mortified.

Am pretty sure it was my gym bag. But I have to confess to wondering if I’m doing things in my sleep.

2 thoughts on “Am forever humiliated and traumatized

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