My left arm has been itching.
Not surprisingly, that itch developed into a nasty, red, bumpy rash because I couldn’t quit scratching.
After an extensive image search on Google, I freaked out, convinced that I had contracted scabies, bed bugs, leprosy or travelling herpes. Maybe even a combination of all four.
A quick picture of my arm and text to my doctor confirmed a possible diagnosis of scabies or spider bites. He called in a prescription to treat both. Just in case.
Because I also like second opinions, I sent the same picture to a pharmacist friend in New York, who told me that my doctor was wrong and that I had developed a heat rash.
I didn’t want to believe this second opinion. It seemed to be an unlikely thing for a guy born on the tropical island of Singapore to suddenly get heat rash for the first time in Detroit.
Nevertheless, I dutifully put on some Cortizone cream as the pharmacist instructed and went to bed.
The next morning, most of the inflammation had gone down.
More importantly, none of it had spread.
Indicating that it wasn’t scabies.
When my coach saw my arm later that day, he seconded the second opinion.
It’s apparently a common gym thing in the summer.
So now the face wipes I use after working out get used to clean my arms too.
And I bought a little fan that I use under the piano to keep myself dry and minimally sweaty at work.
The rash is nearly gone.
But my need to jump to the worst possible conclusion is probably still entirely intact.