Finally, my appointment with the dermatologist came due. Nothing to say, I awaited one a half months because well, looks like USA is in a short supply of dermatologist these days. So, there I am with my 10-month old left hand triple-sore from unknown origin that resisted everything so far: anti-fungals creams, steroids creams, anti-fungtal AND steroid creams, more power steroid creams, water avoidance, stopping wearing the lab gloves, trying all kind of germicide creams. Nothing. Nothing worked. And the sore, ale, getting bigger and bigger.

But now the specialist turn arrived. Finding her place was the first hurdle to overcome. Its criptic positions in the middle of nowhere -thats Ohio, everything's in the middle of nowhere- rendered Mapquest and Googlemap  completely useless. Nothing to say,  I got the right tactical directions only after asking local people. After I managed to get "there there, go there and turn left then right, mmm, no I think it was left? Then go there, that white building there". Of course, in these cases all the buildings are white. Anyways, when I enter the lobby:

“ Is it your first visit?” The receptionist asked me. “Yes” “Oh yeah?! We have a winner here” seemed to be her answer. This meant having to fill 2 forms with the same type of information and then sit and wait. If you can overcome this other excruciating step, man, you are already half way there. Next to this, my little sore is rendered as a tourist attraction.  But ok, for the sake of getting healthy I acceded to get bureocractically-raped.

Then it comes the next stage, the patient room. When I told the nurse my sore went away when I came back to Spain for Christmas, my statement led her to spurt a fun remark. Right, like if I came here to have fun or something. Anyway, the real shtick was soon to come.

When that nurse left –which by the way made me repeat the same amount of information I already repeated twice to the first-line combat receptionists- I was left alone. 2,3,5 minutes went by. Patience now the key.

Then, a knock in the door at the same time it opens and: Splash! The dermatologist appears and she looks like the flamboyant radio host Christ Tucker played in the Fifth element. A female named Neera Agarwal Antal doesn’t go around the bush:

“Hi I am Dr. Agarwal, where’s your sore?” While she takes a look at it, I give her a sort of background history about it: my travel to Spain, my 10-months battle, the different creams etc. My explanations give me the feeling they are a ton of "blablablablabla" to Dr. Agarwal's ears.  Five seconds later and she tells the assitsant nurse “Give him A&D, and referral for Mimycs” Maybe because my face looks like I just saw a patufet -a sort of Catalan goblin- out from a bush, she elaborates a little bit:  “A&D is an OTC drug, you won’t have problems finding one”. Still half-shocked by the speeding diagnostic I just wonder “Are you sure its not a fungus?”  “Unlikely, this is atopy, the environment, is caused by atopic genes bababalarab, balbalbla bubub-ichic” The last word of her explanation splashes one of those incomprehensibly unfathomable medical words. “Give him a schedule in two weeks’. She just missed to say "See you babe!!" And that was it.