Pimple

Okay.

Remember that pimple I wrote about on My Eldest?

Well,
(deep breath)
...it's not a pimple.

(deep breath)
It's actually some weird dermatological phenomenon. The pediatrician hinted that there was a possibility of plastic surgery. Plastic surgery for a 5 year old just seemed so outer space!

My Eldest has a keen interest in medicine. I think it comes naturally to her since My Husband is an R.N., and I have a fairly extensive medical background (wannabe doctor who has failed to meet my potential). We have been blessed with a child who (thankfully) has the capacity to understand medical facts, and she uses them to assuage her fears - usually. But when you talk about surgery, that doesn't sit well with her. Or us.

Background: I was pretty pissed at the pediatrician. I called his office to get the name of a reputable dermatologist. I have a PPO - don't need that referral. The nurse encouraged me to bring in My Eldest so that the pediatrican can prescribe a cream or ointment since scheduling an appointment with a dermatologist is so hard. I hestitated, but okay, I have confidence in my daughter's pediatrician; I used to work for him. He's good.

This is how the visit went:

Dr. H.: Let's have a look.
My Eldest cocks her head accordingly. We relate the timeline of metamorphisis. Dr. H. listens intently, nodding and carefully touching the pea sized scab underneath My Eldest's right nostril.
His diagnosis: "I don't know what it is. You should see a dermatologist."

Me: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH What a F-ing waste of time and money!!! (not out loud) No idea? I ask out loud.

Dr. H.: Well I have only seen this once or twice in my life, but I *think* it's a spitz nevus (sp?). I don't know how it behaves, don't know how to treat it but sometimes they could lead to plastic surgery. It could continue to grow. Might have to have surgery to remove it.

Me: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH (not out loud) Okay, well then can you recommend a dermatologist? I ask out loud.

Dr. H. promptly gives me names and numbers of some dermatologists, and I pay my f-ing copay and get the hell out of there.

I call the dermatologist and make an appointment. The soonest is not for a month from the date of the call. A MONTH. So....let me get this right....my child has to endure this tumor of a spit something thingie for the next month and I have to be okay with how all of this is turning out?!

Sigh.

Now - this is not a vanity issue. If My Eldest has a mole, or whatever on her face, that's something she will grow up with and as an adult, she can make the decision to do what she wants. My concern is that it will continue to grow and morph and the natural question is "what is the medical remifications of it?" We have to wait a month to find out.

In the meantime, My Eldest starts swimming lessons. Lo and behold the pimple that's not a pimple starts to dry out and clear up! After about 3 weeks, the scab falls off while she sleeps. It continues to diminish and of course, it's time for the dermatology appointment. We ain't got nothin. Nothin to show him. Dammit. I took pictures and considered taking them with me, but I know how obnoxious that would be.

We go to the dermatologist. What a joke. Note to self: never make an appointment with a specialist who is affiliated with a teaching hospital or medical school. I don't see the doctor; I see the resident whipping boy, Jason. Jason was a hottie soon-to-be doc that has made this excruciating ordeal just a little better for me. He was ginger with My Eldest. My Eldest methodically and matter of factly explains to *this* doctor the timeline of metamorphisis. It is obvious that my daughter and I share the same taste in men. Jason takes a look and validates us. We bat our eyes and look cute. Then the real dermatologist comes in. Get this: he's got a prescription ready and diagnoses "bullous impetigo" that is a manifestion of the staph or strep germ and typically is found in a carrier.

Do you know this doctor had the GALL to take a PERSONAL phone call from his cell phone IN THE MIDDLE OF SPEAKING TO ME about my daughters condition? He physically left the room and poor Jason stood there uncomfortably nodding and smiling at us, and eventually offers a sticker to My Eldest. I am wondering how the presciption was ready with him actually getting history from me, not viewing the area on My Eldest's lip or speaking to Jason for any length of time. Sloppy and scary.

So, the real dermatologist re-enters the room, dictates how to administer the medication and curtly answers my questions. He's too busy for us. We are but mere drivel in his mind. Disturbing is that the way he says to administer the cream isn't what is stated on his presciption. Wonder how all the other patients are doing on their mis-labeled presciptions and have nasty consequences to their various skin conditions. What a joke. Managed care is the bane of my existence.

In the end, I got my answers after a little push & shove with the real doctor, have an inaccurate prescription, and somehow find comfort in the fact that My Eldest will not need plastic surgery and she can affirmatively with authority state that she has bullous impetigo. Morever, I am comforted by the fact that Jason is a hottie soon-to-be doctor who will seemingly have a better rapport with his patient base.

Thanks Chlorine.