"I'm too young for this!"

Several years ago, a young man in the youth ministry replied, "Yes, ma'am," when I asked him a question.

Later, I said to his mother, "I appreciated his manners, but I'm too young to be a ma'am!"

We both laughed as I said that. 

Today, I had another episode of, "I'm too young for this!" 

It all began with a trip to the dermatologist's office. I've been having serious discoloration and itching on my left leg for some time; have had two biopsies, both showing "spongiotic dermatitis", and finally decided to try a new dermatologist.  When I made the appointment, I said "eczema" was my problem.

The dermatologist came into the examining room, took one look at my leg, and said, it's not eczema, you've got some fluid buildup there.  The official name for my condition is stasis dermatitis.  

He's prescribed me a skin cream and also told me that there's a skin cream that can help with the itching. 

He's also told me to get a pair of . . . wait for it . . . compression stockings.  

He explained that it was supposed to help with the fluid . . . but all I could think was, "Compression stockings?  Those are for old people. I'll be 58 in October.  I'm too young for this!"

I am also supposed to keep the left leg elevated above the heart when possible.   

I told the doc, "Gee, thanks," sarcastically.  Later, I apologized for my snarkiness and said that what I hoped was healthy snark was one of the ways I dealt with things.  I think the doc understood.  I did tell  him, in all seriousness, that at least this was something that I could do (and told the nurse afterwards that it's better than hearing, there's nothing you can do.) 

On the way out of the building where the doc's office is, I stopped at their pharmacy and got a bottle of the over the counter stuff to help with the itching. 

So, I will be off to the Internet, that purveyor of all things necessary (and most things unnecessary) to find myself a pair of compression stockings. 

And since I'm supposed to be keeping my leg elevated, I am sorely tempted to call my insurance company and ask if they would be willing to pay for a La-z-Boy recliner because I need it for medical purposes.

I am sure, however, that their answer -- delivered with the appropriate snark, of course -- will be, "No."

Just my .04, adjusted for inflation.