What a frickin’ terrible day. (Hi, my name is Marcus, and I have a bad attitude.) Yesterday I wrote about a skin rash that’s recently developed on my scrotum. (For everyone who wrote or called me in response and asked, “How’s your penis doing?”–Thank you, your support means the world to me and Junior.) Anyway, this morning I saw my dermatologist. Convinced my problem was related to my family’s change in laundry detergent, I hoped he’d simply look things over, tell me the worst was behind me, and recommend a different soap. Instead he looked things over and said, “I’ll be right back. I’d like to do a biopsy.”

Y’all, if you’ve never had a chunk of skin removed from your private parts, I don’t recommend it. Like, if you’re ever given the option to have it done, go to a movie instead. Granted, it wasn’t unbearable. The rubbing alcohol followed by the shot for numbing the area were the worst parts. (Yowza.) I didn’t actually feel the skin removal. But then the doctor cauterized my flesh back together with what essentially amounted to a miniature cattle prod, this little magic wand that just so happened to be plugged into an electrical outlet. “Is that the sound of my flesh burning?” I asked.

“Yes, and the smell,” he said.

The doctor said the biopsy should take a week to get back, but that my “situation” could possible be psoriasis, which, he was encouraging enough to point out, isn’t curable. (I personally take serious issue with this idea, that a magnificently intelligent body and universe can produce a problem but not a solution.) “But we don’t know that’s what it is,” he said. “It could be a form of eczema, or even cancer. There are, after all, 3,000 skin conditions in dermatology.”

Uh, is this supposed to be a pep talk? I thought.

“So this just, like, popped up?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “There has to be a first day for everything.”

I still can’t decide if he was being funny or serious.

Before I left his office, the doctor wrote me a prescription for a stronger steroid cream than the one I’ve been using, so I went to Walmart to have it filled. While I waited, I picked up some Epsom salt to use in the bathtub, since that did seem to help when I tried it a couple days ago. Also, I bought some “free and clear” detergent for sensitive skin, even though the doctor said he thought the fact that this problem showed up after our detergent change was a coincidence. My logic in buying it was that I have to try something. Also, considering the fact that my skin has been extra sensitive and full of histamine since last year when my big sinus infection drama started, why not do everything I can to avoid making it any more irritated than it already is? To that end, I’ve been doing laundry all evening, washing my sheets, towels, and every piece of clothing I own. (This is where being a minimalist and not owning many clothes comes in handy.) So, that’s why I look naked in the above picture–all my shirts are hanging up to dry.

Tonight I spent some time reading about psoriasis and skin conditions online. The “granola people” (natural health food folks) claim skin problems can be caused by anything from yeast overgrowth to parasite infestation. Both thoughts terrify me, and yet I can’t stop reading about them. Currently I’m thinking about every even-slightly red spot on my body and scaring myself to death, imaging myself turning into The Elephant Man. Since these last few months have been one medical problem after another, I’m starting to think of my body as a gypsy wagon bouncing down a rocky road–everything falling off left and right.

Regardless of the cause of various skin conditions, the consensus on the internet says diet is “the answer” (along with these supplements that just happen to be on sale, of course). Be a vegan, eat Paleo, whatever–basically cut out sugar, wheat, dairy, coffee, and alcohol–or, in other words, your entire social life. Honestly, I’ve tried strict dietary changes before. And whereas they do help, they’ve yet to produce any miracles. Not that I’m unwilling to try again–eating clean would surely only help my body–but it takes a lot of willpower, energy, and focus to “eat right,” and–quite frankly–I’m out of all three of those things at this point in my life.

Now I’m ready to go to bed. Each night before I fall asleep, part of me hopes that all these physical problems that just popped up will disappear while I slumber. Sometimes I think of chronic health problems I’ve had in the past that eventually went away and remind myself that my body truly is capable of healing. I can’t think that healing has ever happened as fast as I wanted it to, but it has happened over and over again. So tonight I’m telling myself that if “there has to be a first day for everything,” then there has to be a last day for everything too. Surely nothing in this universe comes to stay. Surely this too shall pass.