AVERT YOUR EYES! What follows is long, and not pretty. (Thanks, Flow, for opening the flood gates. Is that why you're called Flow?)
Way back in the eighties I had a GP whom I loved, and who was a good friend as well. Finally, I couldn't stand "it" any more: I asked her to look at my anus, which itched, bled and had sometimes even had skin peeling off it. Doc said that it wasn't hemorrhoids, although I did have those, but she assured me that if we were going to compete in the hemorrhoid class, she was going to win 'cuz hers were bigger. (How can you not love a GP like that?) Anyway, she had no clue about the skin thing. She commented that it would take months to get to see a dermatologist, so she said she was referring me to the General Surgeon who was, in her words, "the smartest doc in town, and the man who knows everything". This doc was not a friend, but I had taught his kids, and we moved in some of the same circles. He is a lovely, gentle and kind person, and an excellent surgeon, but I really really didn't want to go there. The day I went, he asked permission for a student to examine me as well. Aaaahhhuuuummmm... what was I going to say? OK. There followed serial peering, prodding, wiping, a magnifying glass at one point and then a conference ... excuse the expression, but shit, it was humiliating. Then the good doc delivered his verdict: it was a hygiene problem. O.M.G. Advice was to keep "the area" very clean and dry. Did I mention humiliating?
So I kept "the area" clean and dry, and I discovered that cortisone cream helped "the area" when it got bad. The problem recurred regularly over the following years, and I did my best to ignore it. I certainly wasn't going to ask about THAT problem again.
Fast forward twenty years, lots of misery and mysteries, and two knee replacements later, they find erosions all over my feet, and the rheum diagnoses PsA. She sends me to a dermatologist for confirmation of Psoriasis, but she felt confident that the nail pitting was the sign that, um, nailed it.
I go to the dermatologist, who a friend had warned me was crude and rude. Did I care? I just wanted her to look at my nails and say yay or nay. But of course it's not that simple. She starts with history. Did I have any relatives who had been diagnosed with psoriasis? I say no, but that my Mom (who had died the year before) had developed crusty dandruff-like "stuff" on her scalp, and she had shiny, flaky eczema in her ears. THAT'S PSORIASIS she yelled. WHO SAID IT WAS ECZEMA? I said her GP. She gets visibly wound up, and grimaces. Then she starts on me.
"Let's see your elbows...yes, that's psoriasis." (A slightly rough patch on my one elbow.)
"Do you have any skin complaints?" Yes, I said, my skin is desperately dry and itchy. Her eyes get big and she starts puffing and yelling again "WELL THAT'S PSORIASIS. OB-VI-OUS-LY!"
What about your toenails? I say that I have fungus. She looks. She blows her stack, "AND WHO SAID THAT WAS FUNGUS?????" "My GP" I say making myself as small as possible. And then she goes on the rampage. "I AM SICK AND TIRED OF THESE FAMILY DOCTORS WHO KNOW NOTHING ABOUT DERMATOLOGY MISDIAGNOSING PSORIASIS. PSORIASIS IS A SERIOUS CONDITION WITH SERIOUS CONSEQUENCES. TOENAIL FUNGUS?!!? LOOK AT YOU! LOOK AT YOU! Me, I was looking for the exit...
Then, then, the best line of all. "So," she demands, "How is the skin around your butt hole?" I'm sure my jaw dropped. "Well...um...I've had peeling and itching and ..." She cut me off. "AND WHAT DO YOU SUPPOSE THAT MIGHT BE????" she demanded, staring at me as if I was the one guilty of a mis-diagnosis.
Anyway, we get to the end. TG for that. And, in the course of discussing the diagnosis, I comment timidly that "and you think that my Mother probably had psoriasis as well..." At that point she throws her hands in the air and launches "I NEVER SAID ANYTHING OF THE SORT!!!" By this time I was close to tears, but she was on an unstoppable roll. "I SAID YOUR MOTHER HAD PSORIASIS. SHINY FLAKY ITCHY RASH IN THE EARS IS ALWAYS PSORIASIS, DO. YOU. HEAR. ME, ALWAYS!"
I was never so glad to get out of a doctor's office in my life.