Wednesday, December 22, 2004
Not too long ago I had mentioned to some lengths about a particular camping trip I went on and the unusual mosquito bites that resulted. I know it’s annoying for me to bring that up again, and you may all commence groaning now. I am bringing this up again because I actually went to see a dermatologist about the bites, because they were not healing and the scars looked frighteningly permanent.
As the dermatologist examined my legs he muttered technical term after technical term. After all the medical jargon he explained – oh hell, I can’t remember what he explained. What I remember is that he said that creams that claim to speed up recovery are all bogus, and that the scars will only heal with time. When I asked him if they’ll heal by next summer, he looked up at me and said, “The summer after that.” As I stared at him trying to figure out if he was being serious or was displaying an unusual sense of humor he continued by saying that when everything heals by the summer after next summer, he predicts that I will go camping and get horrible mosquito bites again.
“Bug spray, bug spray,” he muttered. I had, in fact, worn bug spray. And dude, everyone knows that shit doesn’t work.
As the dermatologist examined my legs he muttered technical term after technical term. After all the medical jargon he explained – oh hell, I can’t remember what he explained. What I remember is that he said that creams that claim to speed up recovery are all bogus, and that the scars will only heal with time. When I asked him if they’ll heal by next summer, he looked up at me and said, “The summer after that.” As I stared at him trying to figure out if he was being serious or was displaying an unusual sense of humor he continued by saying that when everything heals by the summer after next summer, he predicts that I will go camping and get horrible mosquito bites again.
“Bug spray, bug spray,” he muttered. I had, in fact, worn bug spray. And dude, everyone knows that shit doesn’t work.
