It’s 8 o’clock on the last day of Lindyfest here in Houston, and Daddy is exhausted. Last night I danced until 3:30 in the morning. I’d intended to turn in an hour earlier, but my friend Hannah and I started dancing, and one or both of us kept saying, “UH–just one more?” This morning I was up around 9 for breakfast and have been mostly groggy and incoherent all day, despite the fact that I took a two-hour nap. I guess my body has simply had enough. Granted, it might have something to do with all the extra anti-histamines I’ve been taking for my generally itchy skin and specifically itchy rash (located where no one wants a rash).

In addition to being on my body, this rash has been on my mind for the last week, worrying me. I have an appointment to see my dermatologist this coming week, and when I spoke with his nurse on the phone about what was going on, she said it sounded like dermatitis. In medical terms, this simply means an inflammation of the skin, which means a rash, which I already knew. The nurse said to take anti-histamines and apply hydrocortisone cream, but that advice has so far yielded zero results. Frustrated, yesterday I called my former dermatologist (whom I only quit seeing because she stopped taking my insurance), and asked her opinion. Admitting that I was seeing another doctor, I said, “This is the part where I feel like I’m having an affair.”

Thankfully, she seemed to understand and didn’t come back with, “But what about MY needs?”

Since the rash hasn’t been responding to hydrocortisone, she seemed to think I had a yeast problem. (This is fun to talk about, I know.) So after I got off the phone with her, I walked bravely through Houston traffic to the nearest CVS in search of yet-another cream. Y’all, this last year has been hell on my skin. I’ve had so many problems, I literally have a box of creams, ointments, lotions, gels, and pastes, all meant for rubbing on your pits and parts that never see the sun. Anyway, I got the new cream and gave it a shot when I arrived back at the hotel, but haven’t used it again, since I convinced myself last night that my skin is probably just irritated and pissed off because I keep putting so many chemicals on it.

Honestly, I can’t tell if things are slightly better or slightly worse today. Part of me thinks better, but another part of me thinks I’m simply getting used to itching all the time. Ever since The Great Sinus Infection Drama of the Twenty-First Century started last October, my skin has been overly reactive, so this latest problem just feels like “one more thing.” (When it rains, it pours. How true, how true.) Yesterday on the phone my former dermatologist said, “It’s possible you have a pinched nerve in your lower back, and that could be contributing to your discomfort.”

First, are you freaking kidding me? Second, does anyone else ever get the distinct feeling that doctors are many times “just guessing”?

Due to the number of health problems I’ve had these last several months, I almost didn’t come to Lindyfest this year, even though I’m on staff. But I’m glad I did. Not only has it been a great distraction while I wait for my next doctor’s appointment, but it’s also been great fun. Last night while Hannah and I were dancing, another guy came over to ask me to dance. (Several dancers here dance both the lead and follow roles.) Anyway, Hannah said, “Since we all three dance both roles, let’s do a steal dance.” (A steal dance is when two people start a dance, and one or more other people jump in and replace one of the original dancers–it’s super fun.) So that’s what we did–I led Hannah, then I led the guy, then Hannah led the guy, then she led me, and so on.

Before we knew it, we’d drawn a crowd. (This was around three in the morning after most people had gone to bed, so it was easy to do.) And here’s the wonderful part–one-by-one the rest of the ballroom started joining in. Within the course of the minute, nearly everyone was on the floor, all of us taking turns dancing with each other. Y’all it was so fun. This is why I dance. In those moments, I wasn’t thinking about my struggling body or itchy skin. I wasn’t worried about what’s going to happen next in my life. Also, I wasn’t thinking of what I was doing “wrong.” I wasn’t comparing myself to others. Rather, I was having fun–being alive, being present, “forgetting” that there’s anything un-perfect with me, another, or the world we live in.