Dad's Paper Dress

2003

My husband and I are driving to Terryton to meet my father's "internet girlfriend". Dad talks about Ying all the time. "Oh she's so pretty and she is one of those people that pokes you when you're sick." (Acupuncturist)

Since my mother passed away last year, my father has been on the prowl. He has always fancied himself as a ladies man. He sports a very bad rug on his head and wears tight powder blue stretch jeans from Kmart. According to my aunt he has always thought all the women were after him, when in reality the only person that noticed him was….. himself. Appearance means everything to my father, in fact it is the only thing that matters.

Now in his late 70's, he is an exaggerated version of who he once was, with dementia. We have been very proud of him trying to care of himself on his own. However, it hasn't taken him much time to realize that my mother did almost everything for him. I make sure that he has three or four good meals a week, and my other family members help out too. Life on his own has become a challenge and he is desperately trying to find someone attractive to take care of him.

We arrive at the house, dad is dressed in his powder blue's and button up shirt. The kitchen is clean and he is anxiously waiting for his "girlfriend" to arrive. He is so happy he can hardly contain himself. My husband Lee and I wait with him. Ying has been here one other time. It takes her about an hour and a half to get here from NYC. Dad says she is in her 50's and a little "too old" for him, but "she doesn't look her age. "

Dad has a rather interesting image of himself. He does not identify with other people his age, or anyone over 50 for that matter. He uses a variety of adjectives to describe these people…. "old" "wrinkly" "fat" "bald" "crippled" and sometimes just plain "ugly". When I point out that he is also bald, he explains that it doesn't count because he HAS hair, it's just not his own. As difficult as it is to admit, my father is "the dirty old man next door". He typically chases girls in their late teens and early twenties, which are, as he says, more his age.

My husband and I are interested in meeting Ying and we wonder what her attraction is to my father. We are fairly certain that it is his money. Not that he has a lot of money, but we know that he gives out his address to any and everyone on the computer, talks about living alone and having a "television in every room!" He has set himself up as an easy target.

There is a knock at the door and Dad rushes to the living room. A petite Chinese woman enters and dad has engulfed her with his arms "Hi darlin, hi darlin!" She stands rigidly, pats his back and giggles "Oh Oh Oh yes hello!" She follows him in and he introduces us. Ying has an accent and speaks rather softly. My father has lost some hearing in one ear so the conversation is a little slow. Lee often repeats what she has said when he sees my father leaning forward or responding incorrectly.

Ying is from China and received most of her education in France. She claims that outside of the US she could practice as a doctor. She now works as an acupuncturist in the city and lives in a small apartment with her niece. The conversation turns to my father and Ying is concerned because my father claims that he does not eat. (My father tells everyone that he does not eat, which couldn't be further from the truth) "You must eat for your strength, it is important, you must eat!", she says. My father is happy for the attention this gets him, he smiles and flexes his arm to show his sagging muscle. He points to the bicep and says "Oh, I am strong as an ox! I go to see Scapp (that is his doctor, but Ying doesn't have a clue to what he is talking about) and he says, Ray you gotta put on the paper dress. I don't want to put on that damn paper dress, but I gotta do it. So I put it on and I look like a girl. Lorrie (the nurse) says Ray, you look good!" Ying is now sitting with her head tilted to the side trying to figure out what he is talking about. Lee and I sit and look at each other and my father continues. "So they hook up these things all over my chest and then they plug it in, and it doesn't work! Lorrie says that plug is no good. So they send me up the hospital and they tell me to run on the machine. So I run like I'm 20 years old, and they say I'm a strong man! Oh I'm a good swimmer, I'll go put on my trunks if you want me to, but OH GOD my legs are white and Lorrie just laughs!" My father is laughing, Lee and I are looking at the floor shaking our heads and Ying giggles nervously.

Ying's visit with us lasted no more than a few hours. She headed back to NYC in her broken down two door Chevy. The following week my father went out and purchased a small diamond engagement ring and two wedding bands. Lee and I know this is an act of desperation, but trying to speak logically to my father futile. Ying visited my father one more time and she accepted his proposal of marriage. He held onto the rings because he wanted his daughter to "accept" the marriage first. We took Dad to the attorneys office to begin the process of a prenuptial agreement. Lee contacted Ying with the logistical information. Dad never heard from her again.

I know this is the beginning of a very long road.

Bringing up the Rear

2008

In September my husband sent me off on my bi-annual mental health vacation. A well appreciated break away from the responsibilities of mundane house work, serving as a short order cook (I live in a house with four males, none of whom eat any of the same foods) and the daily challenge of caring for my eighty-one year old father with dementia. I enjoyed naps at the pool, naps on the beach, naps in my room and complete control over the television remote. I must admit that I also loved the freedom of eating what I wanted when I wanted in silence. Gone were the belching, crunching and farting noises at the dinner table. I brought four books with me and finished two of them. Five days of napping. eating and reading, it just doesn't get any better than that.

While I was away, my husband started taking my eleven year old out running at the high school track in preparation for the mile run at school. If the track was being used then they would use the track across the street at the middle school. When I arrived home they invited me along and they had both progressed to one lap around the track with out needing to walk. I have respiratory disease, see a doctor twice a month for monitoring, so running is just not my "thing". However I felt that I should join in the cause. After half a lap, I was walking, and my chest hurt. It's safe to say that I have a rather large behind and the bouncing going on in the rear made me think that it would eventually fall off onto the track. I actually thought I was going to die.

My husband resumed his normal traveling schedule. I was back in my role as house keeper, short order cook, elderly caregiver and my new found position as "running coach". Everyday my son and I made our way out to the track to run. We certainly enjoyed the high school rubbery track over the grassy track at the middle school. Over the course of three weeks I had increased my time and was actually making it around the track ONCE with out needing to walk. I think my son was more of a coach to me, than I was to him. "You're doing great Mom!" He was always encouraging. I discussed this new found activity with my doctor who thought it was great and also thought it would improve my pulmonary functions - which it did!

One of my girlfriends who is very athletic told me I should join her in the local 5K run at the end of October. I really wasn't keen on the idea, but I agreed to do it if my son went along with me. After some debate we agreed to try and run in our town's "fun run" during the fall fair. This would help us decide if we could really commit to a 5K run. A mile run around the little pond in the center of town. We registered down at the the elementary school. That fateful day arrived, we got our registration information and were lining up at 7:00 in the morning. I had on my new sneakers and was feeling pretty darn good about myself. Off we went! I didn't break any records, but I finished the run in twelve minutes and twelve seconds and I felt awesome! My husband and son weren't far behind. We all got tee-shirts and I wore mine like a badge of honor.

I decided that I would register for the 5K. What the heck. I had worked through the aching chest, leg cramps and my behind was bouncing a little less than it used to. Since we had enjoyed the scenery of the pond, we changed our running course. The pavement around the pond wasn't as comfy as the track, but we appreciated the colorful sights and sounds around the water. About the middle of the next week.....I started to have problems with my rear end. It itched. It itched and itched and itched. I tried "anti-monkey butt" powder. It itched. I tried Preparation H, thinking perhaps it was hemeroids. It itched. I tried diaper rash cream. It itched. I tried Neosporin. It itched. My husband insisted that jock itch powder would solve the problem, which I thought was insane because the monkey butt powder didn't work! JOCK ITCH - Get real! I let this go on for 7 days before I saw a doctor. Try and find a doctor to look at an itchy rear end. It's not easy!!!!! After several phone calls, I got an appointment to see my general physician.

I explained my embarrassing problem to the nurse, who whispered the problem to the doctor in the hall before he entered the examination room. After looking at the "problem area" he told me to get dressed and would see me in a minute. I was sure that I had some sort of dermatitis. The doctor came in the room and took a deep breath, and told me that I had........herpes. I looked at him and he looked at me. "WHAT?!" I screamed? He told me to calm down, it wastn't a big deal. According to him half the population had herpes and it is controlled by Valtrex. I asked him "How did this happen?" He said "Oh you know how this happens, don't you see the commercials on television? How many people have you 'been with' in your life?" I looked at him with my mouth open. Finally I said "I've been with my husband for almost thirteen years, neither of us have ever had a problem like this, what are you telling me?!" He then told me that I could have gotten this from a toilet seat some where. They took a vial of blood for testing, gave me Valtrex and told me he would phone with the results.

I left the office crying. It wasn't long before I was on the phone with my husband and it's safe to say that I had quite a few questions for him. He was very calm and was certain that I had been misdiagnosed. I wish I had found his confidence comforting, but I didn't. During the same week my older son hit a deer with the jeep. I was back and forth to the auto body shop, making phone calls, getting estimates, taking Valtrex, itching my bottom and waiting for the results of my blood work. On a positive note I was hired for a part time job in my profession and was to begin new employee training in two weeks.

By Saturday evening, six days later, my itching had multiplied ten times over. Clearly the Valtrex was not helping. I could not restrain myself from digging at my skin. My rear end was bleeding and I was contemplating self surgery. I had convinced myself that I could cut away what little skin was left and it would grow back healthy. It was at that point that I realized I needed professional help. I got dressed, stomped down the stairs and announced that I was driving to the walk in emergency care center. Our local hospital is always over flowing at the emergency room so I knew that I would receive more immediate care else where. My husband was up and ready to drive me but I was determined to take care of this myself. I was still disgusted with him after all he thought that I had "jock itch"!

At the walk in center I asked the girl at the front desk if the doctor on duty was a female. Indeed that was the case. I wanted to talk to another woman about this problem. I had not spoken of the affliction with any of my friends. I was mortified. After a twenty minute wait, my vitals were taken. When asked to "explain symptoms" I simply stated that my bottom itched and I needed to confide in the doctor. I was placed in an examination room at the far end of the hallway, around the corner, far away from everyone. I waited. I scratched. I noticed that I was bleeding through my jeans. A middle aged female doctor came in and sat with me. I told her my entire story. She asked me if I had gotten the results of my blood work back, and I told her I had not. She smiled. I cried. She told me that she had the same exact thing happen to her and assured me that I did not have herpes. "How in the world can you say that without even looking at my bottom?!!" She assured me that I had a yeast infection, which had happened to her when she first started running several years ago. She had also been misdiagnosed with herpes. I dropped my pants and she gasped. "You have a RAGING yeast infection, oh my goodness!" She said that my GP should have cultured the area, which he did not. So she took a culture and had me shot up with an antibiotic. I left with four prescriptions. An antibiotic, Diflucan, yeast cream and a topical antibiotic. By the time I awoke in the morning my itching had subsided by at least 50% and the skin looked as though it was beginning to heal. I had the prescriptions filled and was confident that I was on the road to recovery. The following weekend we were scheduled to go on a retreat with the middle school kids. I had been leary of the trip and questioned my ability to sit for eight hours on a bus.

On Monday I answered my cell phone in route to the body shop to pay for the damages to the jeep. It was the nurse from my GP's office calling to tell me that I did not have herpes and the doctor suggested that I follow up with a dermatologist. "Really, no kidding?!" I said sarcastically. "Please tell the doctor that I have since been accurately diagnosed with a yeast infection by the doctor at the walk in center!" The nurses response, typical of a southern lady, "Well bless your heart, you've gone through quite a bit now haven't you?" To which I replied, "Uh, Yeah, to say the least!" I hung up the phone.

I followed the doctor's orders and by Wednesday I had not gotten any better. Now keep in mind that I was 50% better, but I was still unable to keep myself from scratching. I decided I needed further medical attention and since I had some positive results from the "walk-in emergency center" that seemed to be the place to go. Unsure if I would see the same physician, I put together a little "kit bag" I filled it with all of the products I had used on my bottom along with all of the medications I was currently taking. I went back to the walk in center. Fortunately I saw the same doctor. She said that perhaps I needed a broad spectrum antibiotic and wrote a new prescription. She also said that it was possible that I had "worms" and wrote me a prescription for that as well. "Worms!?" "Yes" she replied, "It's fairly common. I see it all the time." So this I thought, is what I've been reduced to. I had visions in my head of our dogs, as one of them is always dragging their bottom over the carpet. Now it would be me. I could hear my husband's voice apologizing to guests, "Well I guess we've got to worm her again" as I scooted over the living room carpet on my rear end. I left the office and wiggled my tail down the street. I was getting to be quite a regular at the pharmacy. I waited anxiously for my new medications.

On Friday I had my regular bi-weekly visit with my respiratory doctor. I also brought my little "kit bag" with me and told him my itchy butt story. He was sure that I had a yeast infection as well and prescribed four more days of Diflucan and told me to eat, live and breathe yogurt. He also supported the idea of taking probiotics. Once again I went off to the pharmacy and sat in my regular chair waiting for my medications. I did not attend the middle school retreat with my husband and son for the weekend. I still couldn't sit for more than fifteen minutes at a time with out wiggling and itching. On Monday I was to begin new employee training. I absolutely had to get this situation under control. Just as a precaution I made an appointment to see my dermatologist on Monday morning at 7:00 am, in the event I did not improve over the weekend. Later that afternoon I got my results from the culture taken from my first visit to the walk in center, absolutely "virus free"! I know I should have been happy, but the nearly constant itching prevented me from feeling anything other than frustration.

I spent the weekend on the phone with friends telling them my "tail" of woe. According to my doctors half the population was getting herpes from toilet seats and the other half had worms. Surly amongst some of my friends ONE of them was able to relate to my condition. Nope - not -a-one. I treated myself to the can of popcorn in the pantry someone bought from the boy scouts. Support the BSA. In my mind it was the "Butt Scratchers of America".

7:00 Monday morning I was trudging through the doors of the dermatologist's office, itching my ass and dragging my ever expanding bag of creams, lotions, and pills. By this time I had resigned myself to the fact that I might have to accept a life of itching. I was sick of eating yogurt. I had cut all carbohydrates from my diet. Gone was my dignity. I was no longer embarrassed and didn't mind sharing my story with anyone who would listen, in hopes that someone might have a cure. All I got were odd looks or gasps and people would often step away - to be at a "safe distance".

By the time the dermatologist entered the room I was hysterical. She looked over all the items in my bag and asked me to drop my pants. Needless to say I once again heard that re-occurring word "herpes" to which I screamed "LOOK, I've had a blood test, a culture has been sent out, both returned N-E-G-A-T-I-V-E! Do you have any other thoughts here?? A few of the doctors I've seen have also diagnosed this as a yeast infection!" She looked at me. She sat down. "Well lets get rid of all this swelling, how about some steroids and lidocane to numb the area. What ever you do, don't ITCH!" She gave me some samples of lidocane that numbed the area enough so that I could sit through the new employee training I had from 9:00 - 4:00 that day. On my way home I stopped again at the ........................pharmacy. I loaded up on Prednisone and lathered my bottom with lidocane. After three days, I was almost clear. I began to keep a schedule of the hours between itching. The time spans became greater and greater. Thirty minutes - then I would feel an itch. An hour of releif between ithces (a small miracle). I even began to sleep through the night! The hours I was awake were always the most difficult.

My condition improved another 25% over the next seven days. As a last attempt at ridding myself of whatever it was that I had, I made an appointment with a GI. As luck would have it there had been a cancellation. This meant that I would have to miss my last day of training for my new job. Thankfully this was easily rescheduled. I sat in a packed waiting room for over an hour. Normally I would have walked out, I don't like waiting. Due to my desperate situation I stayed put and wiggled quietly in my seat. I averted the stares of those around me. I caught the attention of the secretary and she asked me mid-wiggle "Ma'me are you all right?" "Actually, no I'm not, that's why I'm here!" was my reply. Weeks of obsessive itching, scratching and digging had turned me into a monster. I was tempted to bare my bottom to everyone in the room and say "LOOK AT MY ASS!" Instead I picked up a magazine and pretended to read an article. Once again a nurse took my vital signs and asked me of my symptoms. "Just write itchy bottom. That's it. OK?" She smiled and left the room. I put on the lovely examination gown and waited. When the doctor came in he said "It says here that you have an itchy bottom?" "Indeed I do. On the counter you will see all of the medications and products I have used over the last month. I am out of my mind and you are my last hope at a chance of a normal life. I've been told I have herpes, and just so you know - I DON'T! Cultures and blood tests have both been negative! I've taken all sorts of anti-fungal medications, steroids - I've even been de-wormed!" This made him laugh. "Right now I'm numbing my ass every two hours with lidocane, so I would appreciate any kind of help you might be willing to offer. You have no idea how desperate I am." During my rant the doctor reviewed my medical history and decided he wanted to discuss my history of ulcerative colitis and my last colonoscopy. "Please, please, please can we talk about that LATER, just look at my bottom!" Which he did. "Yup that's a yeast infection all right. You need to get that dried out. Buy this powder, use it, you'll be fine." He handed me a paper with the name of the powder on it. "Don't use another cream or that lidocane. Don't touch the area, just powder it. Make an appointment for a colonoscopy - you're due."

To this date I had spent well over $200.00 in co-pays for doctors appointments and medications. My insurance company had paid over $1,000.00 for my doctor fees, blood tests, cultures and medications. I never ran in the 5k race. BUT - within forty-eight hours I was cured with the purchase of an $8.00 over the counter powder that had clearly printed on the front "cures jock itch".