Newsmessenger - Is There a Dermatologist in the House?

Is it too late to become a dermatologist? The thought has crossed my mind this week after trying to actually book an appointment with one. It doesn’t help that I’ve recently completed a career change to that of a therapist. That mid-life crisis came complete with a Jeep and running ultra marathons. I’m afraid if I had to become a doctor we’d be talking a Ferrari and hot air balloon races around the world.

Truthfully, if I want to actually see someone about a little patch of dry skin on my head, it would take about the same amount of time to either start and finish medical school and become a dermatologist or book an appointment with an existing one. And if you factor in my monthly medical insurance payment, plus co-pay, I believe the cost of medical school would come out a wash. And that’s including the Ferrari and hot air balloon.

At this point I’ve burned an entire week trying to find a dermatologist that will see me. I learned the hard way that most are not accepting new patients. I did find one doctor in Roseville who was already booked through August, but her receptionist told me if I called back in about 4 or 5 weeks on a Monday at 8 AM I might be able to see the doctor sometime before the end of the year. I’m assuming we’re talking 2008 but I wouldn’t bet the Jeep on it. And that’s only if I can grab the coveted “new patient” slot, the ONE that opens up each month. Another call gave me a bit of hope, until she heard the name of my insurance provider, which elicited an audible “oooohhhh, we’re not accepting anymore of those patients.” I also played a couple of rounds of everybody’s favorite telephone game, “get put on hold until you finally get dropped!” Fortunately I was able to check eBay for hot air balloons during my wait.

Little did I know that slathering my fair skinned body with baby oil, laying out on the trampoline, listening to my favorite mix-tape (kids, asks your parents about “tapes”) in hopes of a golden brown tan in the 80’s would cause me such angst some twenty years later. I guess I should have known. Blond hair, fair, freckled skin and the event some called the unveiling of the albino each spring when I finally started wearing short pants should have given me a little heads up that too much sun would lead to some serious frustration down the road.

Thankfully I figured out that pale was “in” over a decade ago but that cycle of oil, burn and repeat might have been repeated a few too many times. Ever since my hair left me up top, I’ve noticed a couple of rough patches on my otherwise perfectly shiny scalp that should probably be looked at just to be safe. I just didn’t realize that it would take a couple of years after their discovery, along with a little luck, to finally see a doctor who will most likely tell me to rub a little baby oil on the patches while informing me that my co-pay just doubled from the time it took me to walk from the waiting room to the examination room.

It’s not enough that my medical insurance payment goes up as often as my hand when someone asks “who wants another donut?” I also have the privilege of paying full price for my prescriptions. A recent round of refills for my allergies had me seriously contemplating putting an organ, and not the kind you play, on eBay in order to fund my prescription problems (note, I am willing to trade for the right balloon, or Ferrari).

There have been a couple of times where this column has paid off big dividends. Right before the still-missed Lincoln Donut Shop closed it led to a free dozen glazed old fashioned. And once, years ago, the Lincoln PD apprehended a rogue pack of dogs that used to chase me on my daily run around town. So perhaps, if I’m being honest with myself, the purpose of this column is a little self-serving. If anybody knows of a good deal on a Ferrari drop me a line!