When I left the office of Doctor Hernandez, it was an extensive expedition wandering like a nomad moving to the front of the building. With the military, it was always “hurry up and wait,” thus my reason for sitting and hanging out until my transportation arrived. When the transport van showed up, the driver, Jim, lowered the lift, put me on it, and I rose at a snail’s pace until I could get into the vehicle. He carefully strapped me in as if I would explode if jostled, tightening every strap so I did not move during the trip. Like a gun, I was locked, cocked, and ready to rock, so Jim drove me home, where things stayed quiet the rest of the day.

The next few days ran as usual as I ate, wrote, and slept, although not necessarily in that order. Monotony ran supreme as I waited for the post office to deliver my package from the VA pharmacy. My rash had grown again like persistent poison ivy covering the top of my forearm, almost twice the size of a dollar bill. I used one of the over-the-counter lotions recommended by dermatologists, but it did little other than soothe some dry skin. My persistent rash was getting old, making me feel like mother nature and father time argued about giving me a reprieve.

Finally, five days later, my prescription arrived in the mail, and the excitement showed on my face like a five-year-old opening a toy at Christmas. Showing up in the evening was perfect timing because it got applied twice daily, so I started with an evening application. I twisted off the cap, flipped it around, used the plastic pin to puncture the foil, and spread some of the rehabilitating ointment. The query that put me in a quandary was about the new medication and how long it would take for the red rash to recede.

After five days of using the new prescription, no change relieved me of the medical malady which marred my arm. My brutal blemish had once again grown and wrapped around the underside of my forearm like a toothless shark bit me. The skin was not only dry but had become flaky and caused a gnarly residue of skin ash wherever I rested my arm. My puzzling predicament confused me, as I once again needed the help of a professional of the medical variety.

He added, not subtracted, when I told my doctor that my rash had not shrunk or decreased any small percentage in a week. Dr. Hernandez did not change my prescription; instead, he added to the list of my pharmaceuticals. He added cream to my ointment, telling me that two were better than one. Once again, I told the doctor I would wait for the snail mail from the United States Postal Service to receive my pharmacy package.

Six days after beginning the new cream, the differences were slight in visuals and significant in mental effects. The discouragement was that the rash had grown again, changing my mental status to gregariously grumpy Gus. Yes, I understand that gregarious and grumpy are opposing attitudes, but I wanted to point out that nothing could steal my positivity. Once again, it was time to seek the help of a medical professional and find my red rash remedy.

I talked with my doctor again, and Dr. Hernandez explained the next step in getting expert advice. He shared that gaining a dermatologist was my next move, a seventy-minute drive to Gainesville, Florida. When I told Hernandez I did not want to travel over an hour for a rash, he laughed and said there was another way. The doc told me I would attend a photo shoot here in town starring my rash with no travel necessary. After the Veterans Administration imaging session, they would forward the pictures to dermatology in Gainesville, Florida. At that point, I would wait for a reply via snail mail.

It was disconcerting to see the medical world veterans must fight through to get our needed help. And how a simple rash turned into a forty-seven-step procedure that I had to dance through like a ballerina in The Nutcracker. There is always too much money for tank and bomb builders, but other than in rare cases, our veterans do not get what we deserve. Nearly 50,000 of my brother and sister veterans are homeless in America, which our politicians should be ashamed of.

Like the Energizer Bunny, the rash kept going.

The primary care doctor should initially help with every issue before it becomes a conflagration of irritation. But, disappointingly, this can often lead to the beginning of a hoop-jumping obstacle course as no dog show has ever had. These PCP doctors want to help their patients with quick alleviation from their ailments. However, they only sometimes know where the line in the sand lies before requiring the attendance of a specialist. The following is my torturous torpid tail as I traveled through the veteran’s administration medical world in search of a rash rescue.

I had a patch of skin on the top of my forearm, slightly smaller than two half dollars side by side. Unfortunately, this rash plagued me with itchy, dry skin and redness that Rudolph the Reindeer would be proud of. Attempting to solve this problem myself, I tried various over-the-counter ointments, creams, lotions, and potions to no avail. Each product resolved one issue but left several untouched, encouraging me to try them all at once, again without relief. I wore the rash like jewelry, all shiny and red, but the itching was brutal, especially when I got into bed.

This attempt at self-healing continued for over a month, trying each lotion for several days or more. I tried this lotion for a week, cream for three days, ointments for two days, and potions for nearly three weeks. My effort at holistic healing was a battle that made for a long and arduous process rivaling any military maneuver. At the end of this time frame, I had nothing to show for it except for more rash and less cream shrinking my medicine cabinet and wallet. Finally, my Boy Scout and Marine Corps first aid training encouraged me to search for a medical professional to step in.

I was sitting in my doctor’s receptionist area, eagerly waiting to hear my name called as I felt I was the next up to bat. To prepare for my Primary care doctor visit, I listed things I wanted to discuss during the appointment, searching for my irritation alleviation. My rash had grown again, making me anxious to show my doctor and receive a rapid remedy to eliminate my excessive scratching. Since my red, bright blemish was the priority for this visit, I put it at the end of my discussion points to allow more time to talk.

Doctor Hernandez was all smiles when he greeted me upon his arrival in the exam room. He was from Mexico and very talkative about VA Hospital politics, the treatment of veterans, and even medicine in Mexico. Hernandez was quite loquacious, making our random conversation last twenty minutes before we got to my list. I tried several times to interrupt our meandering chat to discuss my list, but it felt like fighting a losing battle as the doctor continued our wandering. Finally, the doc drove our conversation back into the center lane to discuss my list and the reason for my visit.

Storing my list on my cell phone, I opened the app and read eggs, milk, and cereal. I realized it was the wrong docket and quickly fumbled with my phone, trying not to waste the time of Dr. Hernandez. Instantly I opened the correct list and began my continual query as to the solution for each thing that bothered me. Although the tabulation was somewhat lengthy, we breezed through all the items until we got to the rash reason for my visit.

I explained that the primary purpose for my visit that day was simply a brutal blemish that marred my arm and caused excessive scratching. Within the span of a blink, the doctor looked at my arm and then looked back at his computer. Then, without hesitation, consideration, or explanation for my consternation, he whipped out his prescription pad and scribbled away. I told him I wanted the prescription mailed to me to avoid the pharmacy, and he quickly replied absolutely.

This topic was a minor, although incredibly itchy, issue that an ointment prescription should have resolved, allowing an open and shut case. However, sadly, my story was anything but open and shut, making for a red tape travesty that took too long. With the Veterans Administration, many redundant and unnecessary steps cause a slowdown in veteran treatment. Of course, many veterans are probably reading this and nodding their heads in sympathetic understanding. Although this is the end of my blog, it is far from the end of my story and the rash reckoning to come. 

 How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.