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27 June 2007


I waited three months to see a dermatologist.

I have complained and talked about my skin before in this blog. For those of you who do not know, I don't have the greatest skin. It is not as bad as before (it was terrible when I was 14 and around 21 years of age) but I still have slight scarring from hormonal cystic acne break-outs. Around PMS, I will have the occasional cystic acne...but as I mentioned, it is not as bad as before. In fact, my skin doesn't look that bad compared to years ago. With age, it is beginning to look pretty good. However, I'm 30 years old and it feels like my face is still 15 - haha. I'm sick of breaking out and I'm sick of the slight scarring. All I want is nice skin for once.

I waited three months for this appointment with the dermatologist.

I pretty much figured that my options were slim as I don't want to go on birth control pills, Accutane, or anti-biotics as suggested when I was 14 and going to the dermatologist. I thought, however, that there might be some other options to explore as it's been over ten years since I saw a dermatologist.

I waited three months to see this dermatologist and I felt like such a number. I was in and out of his room in a matter of minutes. He never asked me about my skin or what medications I have tried in the past, he did not tell me anything about my skin, or even ask "how are you today?". He asked me what I wanted, he took a look at my skin, and wrote a prescription. I seriously waited longer to get fast food compared to the time I spent in the doctor's room. I felt so rushed that I did not get the chance to ask him about another skin concern or a general question about heat rash (my partner is suffering from this at the moment). And I understand that I do live in Quebec but the guy could barely speak English.

Why is that I have to wait three months to see a specialist when he only gives me three minutes of his time? It doesn't seem fair especially when you think of how much money he makes out of my three minute visit!

He gave me a presciption for tetracycline and two different topical gels. Chances are, I won't use this prescription. He never told me what the side effects of these medications are, he never told me if they can be used with the thyroid medication that I am on, and he seemed defensive when I told him that I was on anti-biotics when I was a teen and it didn't work.

I can say this - when I was a teen, I saw a really wonderful dermatologist. He took the time to talk to you, he cared, and he thoroughly explained medications and skincare to you. You could tell he had children of his own. He was warm and gentle and professional. He did not rush you out in a matter of three minutes after a three month long wait to see him.

Anyway, my friend manages a health store. She suggested a number of things that I will look over when I go back home for a little holiday. Maybe I'll ask my family doctor for another referral to a different dermatologist too.

Or maybe I'll just have to live with less than perfect skin as I have been doing since I was 14 years old. Sigh!

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08 June 2007


So, it's official. Being a tour widow is kind of dragging me down. It's been close to three weeks and I've kept myself occupied. I've kept myself busy. I've even had my hands full, for all the wrong reasons. There has been only one creepy insect sighting and nothing has dramatically broken down or gone wrong (the only close call being the skunk that nearly sprayed Toshio). This kind of luck is rare for me, it seems.

I can say this - I'm lonely. And that is what is getting me down. Sure, I have a four-legged companion now and I am grateful for that. I miss having a body around. I miss laughing with someone. I miss sleeping in and I miss not walking the dog in the morning. I miss being touched. I miss shared smiles.

It was much the same last time around. In the middle of being a tour widow, I turn to porn. Ah, porn! What a faithful companion! I turn it on expecting to be turned on and then the phone rings. I'm alone for weeks and the telephone barely rings. Finally, it does...I race to the phone and it is always the most unsexy people calling at clearly the wrong time. I won't name names. At least it wasn't my ex - he always had this uncanny habit of calling out of the blue when I just so happened to be watching porn. I swear he had some sort of "porn radar" or something when it came to me. Frustrated, I return to my porn only to discover that I overanalyze it to the point of not enjoying it. I shouldn't have to think when I am watching porn, isn't that the rule? So to put it bluntly, I am a bit frustrated at the moment. And that kind of frustration usually leads to pure anger and hatred towards most people. Haha...

I feel like my life has been revolving around the dog and admitting that makes me feel like one big asshole. I can't help it though, it kind of gets me down. At times, people ask me about the dog before asking how I am doing. I go to the park and I am forced to talk...about our dogs. I get advice, whether I like it or not (which I am grateful for, don't get me wrong). Everything is dog dog dog. And though I love my dog, I swear to God...he is aging me which each and every passing day. I'm surprised I don't have any grey hair - thank God for hair dye and good genes!

And for all those smart asses who will leave a comment asking me how my dog is, he is fine. He is getting better day by day, I think (I hope!). Our midnight walks are rather successful, I'm pleased about that. Our morning and afternoon walks - that is when I am subjected to learning the art of patience. There have been mornings where I came home and had dramatic meltdowns while dishing out dog food, actually pulled at my hair while letting out some sort of ungodly moan, and chainsmoked after the walk. I know it's not his fault though - he's only scared. His pulling is insane. Yesterday, he yanked me in such a way that I pulled something in my arm. Ouch.

The worst thing is how people look at me on the street with Toshio. They look at me like some sort of freakshow animal abuser. Some are amused. Some are appalled. Children stop and stare, riding up to me on their bikes without realizing that bicycles tremendously scare the dog. And I hate them all. See, if I truly got off on porn the other night...I wouldn't viciously loathe them as much.

I do what the advice-givers tell me - stop and turn, stand still like a tree. Reward him for good walking with a treat and verbal encouragement. And I do...and it does work. However, when he is scared - there is no stopping him. Saying NO! is apparently a bad thing and it really doesn't work anyhow. Once we hit the end of my street, it is not even a minute's walk. It takes us close to fifteen minutes. And in those fifteen minutes, all I can think about is going on a holiday - anywhere. This afternoon's walk was something else. On one side of the street, two boys were playing street hockey. One the other side, a bunch of five year old armed with heavy metal shovels and planks of wood, hitting the sidewalk. And then a car with a terrible muffler drove by. And then there was an abandoned shopping cart. And then people doing renovations. And then some jackass who playfully commented, "Your dog doesn't listen to you, huh huh huh" (that's French laughter, in case you didn't know). And then, I wanted to breathe fire on everyone.

With all that said, I sincerely love Toshio. He makes me laugh and we have a great time together. We run through the lawn sprinklers at midnight. I sing him songs that make him give me high fives (my biggest fan, by far, of my singing voice). He kisses me in the morning and he guards my side of the bed at night (he got stuck under the bed the other morning though). He runs through the white fluffy dandelions in the morning and has white fluff all over his tongue (and then he yaks, so that part isn't so cute). Other than his fearful walks and nervous barks, he's been a really amazing companion.

My life revolves around the dog. See!

On a good note, Toly took me out for a milkshake yesterday. It made my week. I haven't had a milkshake in many, many years. Sure, they are easy to come by...but I like to abstain from certain delights because when you finally taste or experience whatever it is you are abstaining from - it is explosive with flavor and texture and pleasure.

Heh, way to turn that dirty!

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