The Heartbreak of Psoriasis and a Parade

My poor George the Younger has been inflicted with a terrible blight. No, he doesn't have Psoriasis. What he has is worse. He has a thing called Pityriasis Rosea. Why does my kid get the thing that no one has a cure for, doesn't know what causes it and isn't soothed by anything? It started with a little circular thing on his abdomen about a week ago. We thought it was a bug bite. Turns out it's called a Herald Patch. "Herald" as in the medieval guy with the long golden trumpet who toots out a song of great impending doom for the kingdom.



One little Herald Patch has now blossomed into a full fledged full body suit of itchy red spots. His little body is absolutely covered from neck to groin, back to front, with the itchiest red rash imaginable. His armpits look like he is morphing from a normal 12 year old to some kind of genetic hot red bumpy mutant. He's being real trooper about it - and for that I am grateful - but it's going to be a looooong 6-8 weeks. The "good news" from the doc is that he once he has this, he can never get it again. Believe me, this is NOT helping him cope with it. His ability to imagine a glorious rash-free future is broken.



Since the rash is not contagious (which doesn't seem to be registering with me, since I am also getting phantom itchies!), his regular life continues. This weekend was opening day for the San Francisco Little League. And what an opening day it was!


Each team, from the littlest of t-ball players to the biggest of the major leaguers, met in the Presideo parking lot to decorate a team pick-up truck. In my mind, I was imagining a few straggly trucks winding their way through the Marina and Cow Hollow. I obviously have a very limited imagination. There were at least 80 nicely decorated pick-up trucks - lots of posters and streamers and glitter - police escorts, fire truck leading and fire truck ending, kids throwing candy and beads to the assembled cheering crowd. In other words - a real parade - and tres fun for the kids.

After the truck parade, they gathered in the Marina and had an opening ceremony - - lots of kids singing the National Anthem and Take Me Out to the Ball Game. At least that's what George-the-younger said. I had volunteered to help with the bbq which meant that I ended up not seeing anything of the opening ceremony and running around like a one-armed-wall-paper-hanger for two hours trying to feed a hungry mob of families. They wanted their hot-dogs NOW!!


Yesterday afternoon, we got an email from the bbq coordinator that reported that we had served 1650 "meals" to the famished masses in just under 40 minutes. I am now fully qualified to work at Burger King. My skill at hastily wrapping burgers in little pieces of tin-foil in gale force winds is unmatched. I came home smelling like a grill.