Curvy Girls Can't Date Best Friends - Kelsie Stelting Page 0,11
words. I had a place to go. A place to stay. Somewhere safe. “Yes, sir.”
“Now,” Robert said with a smile. “Come downstairs for breakfast. Mom made waffles.”
As I followed them down the stairs, I thought maybe if Callie was only my friend for the rest of my life, it wouldn’t be so bad. At least she could be my family.
Five
Fourteen Years Old
Callie
The back of my neck felt itchy and bumpy when I woke up, and I went to the bathroom to see if I’d been bit or something. I pulled my hair away from my skin and angled my head until I had a clear view of the irritant. A red, splotchy, scaly patch of skin about the size of my fist spread from my hairline to the spot behind my ear.
My eyes widened. What was that? I’d never had a rash like that before...
“Mom!” I yelled down the stairs. It was a weekend morning, and I could already smell the fudge she had cooking. She’d gotten super into making different types of fudge these last few weeks, and it did nothing good for my sweet tooth or the weight that was beginning to appear on my hips and midsection.
“What, honey?” she called up the stairs.
“Can you come look at this?”
As I heard her footsteps come near, I continued examining the spot. It didn’t look like just dry skin, but maybe some lotion would help?
“What’s up?” she asked, stepping into the bathroom.
I turned to show her the patch of irritated skin. “I don’t know what this is. You don’t think it’s eczema, do you?”
She took my shoulders and gently turned me to get a better view. “I don’t think so. Does it itch?”
I nodded. “It’s painful.”
“Let’s get some hydrocortisone on it and I’ll take you to urgent care to get it checked out before your tournament.”
I nodded, even though that was the last thing I needed. I had wanted to spend the day resting and preparing myself for the first basketball game of the year. This would be my last season before high school. But I could center myself on the drive as long as we figured out what this was.
I pulled the mirror back on the medicine cabinet and found the small green and white tube labeled hydrocortisone. The white lotion felt thin on my fingers, and I spread it over my neck, hoping for some relief. None really came. Hopefully the doctor could figure it out today.
As I got my bag ready for the game, I found a big headband to cover the spot, and then Mom and I left for the doctor. Dad and Joe would be coming later to watch me play.
At urgent care, Mom and I had to sit with all the other people coughing and emptying their sinuses into twice-used Kleenexes. They couldn’t call us back soon enough.
When they finally did, I was antsy and ready to figure out what it was so I could get back to thinking about the game. But the PA took his sweet time looking at the spot, and finally he said, “It looks like psoriasis to me. For now, keep hydrocortisone on it and schedule an appointment with your primary care doctor as soon as possible.”
Mom thanked him, but my eyebrows drew together. That was it? It seemed like such a lazy thing to do—just shove it off on another doctor while I had a scaly, painful patch of skin on my neck.
On the way to the game, Mom tried to soothe me, but I just kept looking up psoriasis on my phone. It sounded awful. The page I was reading said it could spread down from my scalp, cover my neck and even my arms, and lead to other worse autoimmune issues like debilitating arthritis.
I tried to keep my mind off of it during the game, but it was hard to focus. I missed shots I shouldn’t have, made careless mistakes with my passes, and it made my teammates mad.
“Get your head in the game!” Merritt yelled at me as we ran down the court.
I kept my eyes on the hardwood and continued ahead.
Carson tried to comfort me after the game, but I wasn’t okay. I just wanted this to be over—for the growing patch of itchy skin to go away. But when I woke up the next morning, it had spread, reaching to the base of my neck. Even my knees and elbows felt uncomfortable.
I slathered lotion over it all, and Mom promised to take me