Doctor. Who?

We have friends who (pun intended) are really into Dr. Who. Yes, we saw the low-budget British show many years ago, and the long-scarfed hero is…interesting. But hey, there are people who don’t get Firefly. Or Fantasy Fest. But I digress. Since February my all-consuming deal has been The Itch. My skin has been on fire, and I was/am willing to go to almost any length to Just. Make. It. Stop. Which led me to my own high-tech Tardis. About the same shape and size, mine boasted enough fluorescent lighting to overpower six George Webbs. My travels started at under 50 seconds and went to just under two minutes. But instead of a long scarf and overcoat, I stood there naked, well, except for the nifty green goggles…

Three days a week I left work early to get to the cancer center at Froedert to meet my new BFF David, a stocky black guy who escorted me to my Tardis, gave me my goggles, and made sure I had them on before flipping the switch. Bug Zapper engaged, I stood with my arms over my head absorbing the light. Seconds or minutes later I was done, dressed and out of there—feeling fried. What’s interesting is that, even on our most whacky Key West days, the bottoms always stay on. Apparently they have protected me from the effects of UV rays over the years, because that is the one part of me that has never burned before (ouch).

What should have happened, instead of coming out with a crispy back end, was a transport to a new and strange place. Unfortunately, this is where science and science fiction diverge. As I recall, Dr. Who in his Tardis saved the universe countless times, neatly moving through time and space. I, on the other hand, always stepped out where I started and a bit disappointed that real life isn’t like any TV show.

Photo credit: Dan Johnson

At the last treatment David’s parting gift to me was a large bag of lotions, and sensitive skin friendly detergents. For my part I made him a Cream Cheese Pecan Pie for Thanksgiving, thinking he could warm it up in the Tardis.

Enough time has gone by where it doesn’t seem that odd that I only wear white cotton undergarments (my body armor) and only sleep between white cotton sheets. The phototherapy treatments have helped, and tomorrow I go to Madison for a battery of patch tests that should narrow down what’s going on. A week of no showers. Yeah, I’ll be pleasant by Thursday…

So, loyal 17 readers, that’s where things are today. If I had a real Tardis and could jump into the future to figure out what’s up with my “Itch” I’d love to do it. But this needs to be fixed the old fashioned way. And, just sayin', that scarf looks itchy.