Consulting Dr. Google is never a great idea, certainly not when you’re full of drink

WE were out with friends on Saturday night having a nice time. Bit of food, bit of wine, bit of bar stool banter. What more could you ask for? Suddenly one of my friends started staring at me. ‘What’s wrong?’ I asked wondering had I lipstick on my teeth.

‘Nothing. It’s just you’ve a bit of a rash,’ she said. ‘What do you mean I’ve a bit of a rash?’ I asked in alarm, looking at my arms and legs for evidence. She tried to reassure me. ‘No it’s on your face – a butterfly rash,’ she said pointing to my cheeks.

I won’t deny it – I am a bit vain. It’s not that I think I’m an oil painting but I do like to make the best of what I have so when someone tells me I have a rash on my face the first thing I’m going to do is bolt to the loo. Sure enough I looked in the mirror and a big red face was staring back at me, not helped by the fact that coincidentally I was wearing a red jumpsuit.

I splashed some cold water on my face and came back out much to the other’s amusement.

Ten minutes later, I still felt a bit flushed. ‘Am I still red?’ I asked. They all nodded in agreement. ‘It’s your drink rash!’ Himself commented helpfully.

‘Every time she drinks two nights in a row she gets a rash.’

‘Jesus you’re making me sound like a right alcoholic!’ I snapped.

‘I had two…..or three glasses of wine watching the Late Late. You had a few drinks last night as well.’ He smiled. ‘Ah yeah.

But I don’t get a rash!’

That man has no sense of loyalty.

My friend who spotted the rash and also happens to be a nurse reassured me that it was nothing serious but I might want to get it checked out the next time I’m at the doctor’s. That was enough for alarm bells to start ringing! I went home and immediately consulted Dr. Google.

Consulting Dr. Google is not a good idea at the best of times but when you do it when you’re full of drink, it is a recipe for disaster. ‘I really don’t think I’m well,’ I told Himself who was starting to nod off. He opened one eye reluctantly.

‘I could have a number of serious conditions – I have all the symptoms – fatigue, temperature, stiffness in joints, I could have Lupus, Pellagra, Dermatomyositis, Bloom Syndrome. Jesus, this doesn’t sound good,’ I said getting out the digital thermometer and sticking it in my ear.

He grabbed it off me and checks the display. ‘Your temperature is normal – 37.5. There is nothing wrong with you except for the fact you’re a hypochondriac and you have a drink rash,’ he said before turning over to go to sleep.

He’ll be sorry when I pop my clogs some day and my headstone will read, ‘I told you I was sick.’