Face Off

I'm not exactly sure when my body turned against me.  I first became aware about six months ago, while rounding at one of my facilities, the director of nursing pulled me into a corner and whispered softly.

What happened to you?

I ducked out of the hallway and entered the bathroom to look in a mirror.  Two large red lesions had sprouted on my face.  One on each cheek.  I had acne!  With hope I tipped down my head and inspected my scalp in the reflection.  I figured since I was reverting to my teenage years, maybe I had also sprouted a few more strands of hair.  No luck-unfortunately my bald spot was as sparse as ever. 

Over the next few weeks the large pearly parasites began to recede, but to my absolute horror, new ones came quickly.  There was no geography that was left untouched: my forehead, my eyebrows, the stubble above my lip.  Although I pictured myself a rather self confident guy, I was starting to feel like the big breasted girl in high school.  I watched as eyes shifted  and glazed over mid conversation as they landed on the freshly formed Himalayas on my face.  I contemplated making one of those snarky shirts.

I'm up here dummy!

But then realized that I would have to wear it on my chin to have the proper effect.

My wife was the first to offer a solution.

What you need is a facial.

She lunged at my with her fists clenched and two thumbs sticking out like talons ready to pounce.  I ducked out of the room and made some excuse about being late for work.  The next morning, however, I sat in front of her makeup case and lifted a tube of concealer up to my eyes to appraise the color.  As luck would have it, she walked by the open door of the bathroom at that exact moment.  She stopped and stared at me with glee.

I have a nice lipstick and eye liner that would look fabulous with that color!

The advice began to role in from all sectors.  My mother in law snatched the box of raisins out of my hand and scolded me for eating the wrong kinds of food.  My elderly hypochondriac interrupted her litany of complaints and stared at me with her mouth open.  It was the first quiet moment I had ever experienced with her in the exam room .

It's stress, my doctor has too much stress.  Don't have a heart attack !  Who will take care of me?

So I bought an expensive facial cleanser and scrubbed relentlessly. I changed shampoos and splurged on a loofah.

And believe it or not, the red tide has started to abate.  Although you wouldn't know it from my partner's reaction the other day.  As we bumped into each other in the hospital he interrupted shop talk for a sprinkling of personal advice.

You know, we have some good dermatologists around here.

I shrugged.  If eyes are the window into the soul, then the face is an invitation for comment.  I looked off into the heavens exasperatedly and replied while turning to walk away.

I really don't like going to the doctor.