In 1984, we moved from our awesome house and neighborhood in New Bern, North Carolina to Escondido, California as a result of my father's job. It was a hard move for all of us, but one that we had to do. We'd made a big move just a few years earlier from Long Island, NY to North Carolina and no one liked the idea of doing it again.
I came into the 3rd grade part way through the year as a new student. Not always easy. Then my dad was re-assigned almost immediately to Philadelphia. So, he spent the rest of the nine months we actually lived in California, in an apartment in Philly, while we stayed in California. It was a hard time for our family.
Over Christmas break, I became sick with strep throat. Three weeks later, I broke out into a "rash" all over my body - little red dots, everywhere. The the dots became bigger, and bigger - it was spreading. And in a few short weeks, I was 70% covered with the "rash". I wasn't allowed to go to school (for fear that whatever it was that I had could be contagious), so for weeks I stayed home and my brother would bring my schoolwork home for me. After antibiotics and blood tests from our family doctor with no answers, he sent me to the Dermatology Department at Scripps Clinic - a well known hospital in the area.
As I remember, the hospital was enormous. The lobby ceiling seemed to never end. I went to the reception desk and without either my mother/I saying a word, the lady said, "You must be Stephanie". I thought that was so cool that she knew who I was (my mother was so kind and never said of course, that my appearance was so unusual, someone probably warned her). I was met by a dermatologist - I couldn't tell you what he looked like, but I'll never forget what he said. "I have good news and bad news, what do you want first?" We picked the good news.
"The good news is that you get to go to the beach every day". Sweet, I thought - that IS good news. "The bad news is that you have Psoriasis".
I remember my mom and I feeling relieved that at least we knew what it was. We finally had some answers. And a doctor that seemed to know how to "fix" it. As we came to find out later - there is no cure for psoriasis... but a myriad of treatments to try and hope for the best.
More tomorrow...
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2 comments:
I knew your Dad had a history on Long Island but I always forget that you were there too. I wonder if our paths ever crossed? Although, back then, our age difference would have made a difference. Thank God you don't care how old I am now!
I know this was like a "nonessential" part of your post...but it is still something about you that I love!
Hey it is great to see a new post I was missing hearing from you. I will be praying for you. The boys and I all struggle with exima(I don't know how to spell it). It isn't the same but with the irritations and rashes that it causes I can only imagine what you deal with.
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