I took my hearts Face Mask o’ the Day and my hearts-and-arrows Tie o’ the Day to my appointment with the dermatologist this afternoon. My doc relayed to me the final results of my biopsies, and now the rash on my torso is diagnosed. For those of you who want me to violate my own HIPAA rules, here’s the name of what I have: disseminated granuloma annulare. According to my dermatologist, it is not something she usually sees. It is not common, nor is it rare. She last saw it on someone over 5 years ago. It’s just rare enough that it can be difficult to diagnose without all the biopsies and x-rays I just had.
The good news is that disseminated granuloma annulare is a relatively harmless condition, although my doc says I need to be vigilant about having mammograms and “lady parts” exams more frequently than is generally recommended for a chick of my age. But here’s the bigly annoying thing: there is no cure to make my rash go away. It will go away on its own—just as it came to me—whenever it dang well wants to. If it decides to go, it can also decide to come back—repeating the process over and over. Or it might disappear tomorrow—never to recur again. Or it might decide to never leave my body at all. So I finally know what the malady is, but there’s nothing anyone can do to eliminate it. My rash has a mind of its own. Fortunately for me, it does not hurt or itch. It simply covers part of my belly and back in patches of red bumps. All in all, I remain grateful my rash is neither dangerous nor hideous. I’m also happy to report that the rash is not contagious. As long as the rash remains innocuous, I guess it’s okay if it hangs around here with me and the neckwear if it really has nowhere else to go. The more the merrier, I always say.