I texted a picture to my dermatologist. No response. I called her office. They could see me the end of August (she's my beautiful popular friend). Texted the picture to my general practitioner (she's my precious friend who feels medically sorry for me). She called me immediately. Benadryl every four hours coupled with vaseline. I've been refrigerating the vaseline. The room temperature vaseline literally melts off of my face. What can I say? I'm hot. Literally. Like to the touch. But if you touched my face? I'd probably have to punch you.
Not much else can be done since I'm allergic to the meds that would stop the rash from intensifying. So I'm hanging tight until it clears. Usually 1-2 months. Hip hip hooray.
The good news? Vaseline slathered all over this almost (operative word) 50 year old face has got to be beneficial. Like a really greasy Botox kind of beneficial! The bad news? It's quite offensive to passer-bys. Probs a bit scary to kids in the grocery store. Oh, and did I mention I can't see? I'm like Popeye. I have one good eye. The other one is swolled up (yes, I just said swolled up).
I really wanted sympathy from my husband. He wouldn't bite. No "Oh, Darlin' I'm so sorry." or "Baby, that is just awful!" And did I tell you it infuriated me? Since we are on the subject of faces. "It's not that bad" he says. I almost punched his.
I'm standing in front of the bathroom sink looking in the mirror in horror. What did he do? "Hey, which shirt? This one or white? These shorts? Needlepoint belt with fish or flags? Bit loafers?" Are you freaking kidding me right now?! I look like a freak show and he wants me to help his cute self look cuter! Umm, no. No sir. Arms crossed swollen two year old lip sticking out. Yep, that's me. Not participating.
As my perfectly coiffed husband and my perfectly greased up face got into his vehicle to go visit our daughter I stewed. As the corn rows whizzed by and the Atlantic Ocean got closer? I remembered the story of the bleeding woman in Luke Chapter 8.
For twelve years the woman experienced constant bleeding. She could find no cure. She heard Jesus was coming to town. So she set out to find him. She was desperate for help. She reached through the crowds and touched his robe. He stopped. He asks who touched him. "Daughter," he said to her, "be of good comfort. Your faith has made you whole. Go in peace". (Luke 8:48)
And there it was. My husband was, kind of, right. Cute maddening husband if you are reading this? Yes, you were right. (Savor those words because I don't say them often). Jesus didn't coddle the woman. He didn't feel sorry for her. He loved her by His actions. Right where she was.
Jesus never promised to heal me. But He has brought me great comfort. And by faith He has made this formerly broken woman whole. My soul never would have been healed without Him. Would I like it if He would heal my body? Absolutely! Can he heal me? Of course! It may be here or it may be in heaven. But my eternal soul? Well, I find great thanksgiving and comfort in knowing He fixed what was really broken.
"I have told you these things, so that in me you will find peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world" -John 16:33
