Paleo Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Truffles

Posted on September 14, 2012 by Pooja Parikh

Oh, don’t worry. There is no shame here. It is okay to start drooling after reading the title of this one. I know I am, at least.

Mmmmm chocolate chip cookie dough goodness.

These are just amazing, and my formal taste testers (also known as my parents) can vouch for the mouthwatering deliciousness in each bite.

I am going to be honest–the Paleo Diet is HARD. Especially with the additional limitations (including eggs, which I hadn’t mentioned before). I will post more about what I’ve been eating, and it is all very delicious (thanks to my wonderful parents who are filled with eagerness to help), but the novelty of a new diet wears away quickly, and meat and vegetables every day eventually gets old.

I am thrilled to announce that I will start reintroducing foods in a week and a half! I’ll start with eggs, then move on to grains, and go from there. I think I’m looking forward to bread more than anything.

That being said, I have an enormous sweet tooth, and I honestly do not think I would have been able to survive the Paleo Diet without my daily chocolate fix. This giant batch of (relatively) guilt-free truffles should keep me going for a while.

The recipe I used is here, but to make it Paleo-friendly I subbed coconut oil for the butter. I also only had 2 cups of almond flour on hand (I guess that’s what happens when you don’t plan in advance), so I ended up using more coconut flour in mine.

Sinfully delicious, minus the sin.

I only had one problem with this recipe: the excruciating wait I had to endure while they firmed up in the fridge so that I could dip them in the luscious chocolate (and then waiting again for that chocolate to cool). HOW CAN I BE EXPECTED TO WAIT TO DEVOUR THESE?

Fortunately, I managed to find a way to pass the time by working on my best friend’s birthday card.

The store didn’t have any cards that said “Happy 24th Birthday,” so I had to improvise.

But I must admit, they are totally worth the wait. Preparation is easy and fast, and the waiting goes by quickly (ish). A fair warning–the dough does not taste the same before it has been refrigerated. I tried a bit of it while I was forming it into balls and wasn’t too impressed. Then, after the truffles chilled and were dipped in chocolate, the result was absolutely divine. So don’t lose heart like I almost did!

Oh! Also…you may be wondering why I only have three chocolate-covered truffles pictured. Well, it all goes back to being overexcited and underprepared to make these…I ran out of chocolate to cover the rest so they’re sitting in this tupperware container, waiting to receive the same loving treatment once I purchase more.

Poor neglected truffles…

Make these. Love them. Then come tell me about your love for them.

Posted in Paleo, Recipes | Tagged , , , , , | 5 Comments

58 Inches*

Posted on August 14, 2012 by Pooja Parikh

These past six months have changed me forever.

Six months ago, I would sit with my mom and cry until I was out of tears and gasping for breath. I cried for many reasons, but one of them–a major one–was the state of my body. It was so incredibly scarred and discolored, and it was all I saw when I looked in the mirror. This ruthless disease was tearing me apart, physically and emotionally.

I would look at people with beautiful, glowing skin and furiously burn with envy. I didn’t think it was fair that I would never look like that. And I was angry because I felt like those people didn’t really appreciate how perfect their skin was.

Some small naïve part of me failed to mentally prepare for the scars that would follow surgery. I was ready to have the terribly diseased areas removed from my body. I was focused on healing, on surviving, on recovering. I didn’t even think about the long, large, deep scars that would be branded onto my body to remind me of what I’d been through…I hadn’t prepared myself for that.

After surgery, I just went numb. The tears completely stopped. I would matter-of-factly state to my mom that no one would ever want to love or marry the jumbled mess I had become. I would break her heart every day with my shattered self-esteem and painful comments. I felt ugly. Hideous. Unlovable. Broken.

Then, somehow, my past crept up on me. I started thinking about my pre-teen/teenage years and how I had managed to gather my strength at that time. Developing early and taking years to grow into my own body ensured that I was an awkward teenager (to say the least). It was during those years that I learned to look into the mirror and see beyond the physical aspects of the face that was staring back at me. I learned to gather my inner beauty and shamelessly wear it on my sleeve. Sure, I was awkward, but I was beautiful and I wanted to share it with everyone.

If twelve-year-old Pooja can live by this frame of thought, then shouldn’t a Pooja who has lived nearly twice as long be able to adopt it as well?

Yeah, I’m scarred–so what? My scars tell my story. They are a celebration of triumph over the horrible struggles I’ve faced. My scars will NOT defeat me. I have more than enough inner beauty to conquer the war I face with my body every morning.

Whenever I see people who are truly beautiful to me, they are beautiful because they harvest their inner beauty and display it, boldly. That beauty comes from honesty–an honesty I’m slowly learning about. These people courageously love themselves enough to be honest with the world and allow everyone to see a bit of who they are.

I strive to be one of these people. So next time you see me, if I look a little different, it’s not because I got a haircut or bought a new outfit–it’s because I’m a more honest version of myself. You’re going to see me.

Of course I’ve had moments when I’ve hated my body. I’ve wanted to scream at the mirror for the reflection it throws back at me. Often, when I’m getting dressed, it takes a few deep breaths (and reassuring nods from my mom) for me to find my strength to face the world, but I always do. And I always will. And I’ll still have moments when I hate my body. But that’s okay, because although I am scarred, I am beautiful. And damn it, I love myself.

*“58 Inches” is the total length of surgical scars on my body.

Posted in Hidradenitis Suppurativa, Misc | Tagged , , , | 21 Comments

Kiwi Blueberry Honey Lime Sorbet (with Paleo-friendly option)

Posted on July 26, 2012 by Pooja Parikh

I spent a lot of time in the kitchen yesterday in preparation for the Paleo Diet. I made a few nut butters (which I will post about another time), some snack items, and, of course, all of my meals. Who knew cooking from only fresh ingredients took so long? Just kidding. Kind of.

Anyway, the champion of yesterday’s cooking endeavors was undoubtedly the sorbet I made. I adapted my recipe from this website, but tweaked it to my liking and to make it Paleo-friendly.

One of my favorite things about this sorbet is that you can taste each individual flavor, but they also come together in mouth-watering harmony. So here you go, my new favorite dessert (until I run out and have to make something else):

Kiwi Blueberry Honey Lime Sorbet

Drool.

Ingredients:

  • 1 cup water
  • 1/2 cup sugar (substitute with 1/4 cup agave nectar to make it Paleo-friendly)
  • 3 tbsp honey
  • 4 kiwis
  • 1/2 cup fresh blueberries
  • juice of half a lime

Instructions:

Bring the water, sugar (or agave nectar for Paleo), and 2 tbsp honey to a boil (save the extra tbsp for the next part). After it starts to boil, keep it on low heat for 5-7 minutes, then set aside to cool.

In a food processor, puree the kiwis, blueberries, lime juice, and remaining tablespoon of honey.

Combine the syrup mixture and the puree, and allow to cool in the refrigerator for 2 hours (or in the freezer for 20 minutes if you’re impatient like me).

Add to ice cream maker and freeze according to the manufacturer’s instructions. Keep an occasional eye on it so you can see when it reaches the consistency you’re hoping for! I prefer my sorbet to be a little soft so it feels like I’ve ordered it from a gelateria.

Simple. Beautiful. Delicious. What else could you ask for?

Posted in Paleo, Recipes | Tagged , , , | 3 Comments

The Paleo Diet

Posted on July 24, 2012 by Pooja Parikh

Tomorrow, I’ll be starting the Paleo Diet.

Here’s a basic breakdown of what the diet entails:

The only difference is that I will also be giving up the Nightshades as well, which includes potatoes, tomatoes, capsicum, eggplant, tomatillos, paprika, cayenne, etc. These are known to be inflammatory foods that can adversely affect people with autoimmune conditions.

I know that dairy is my main trigger food for Hidradenitis, but we think it may not be the only one. I had done some light research and happened upon this blog. A woman who suffered from HS was able to use this diet to find that potatoes (of all things) were her trigger food! Now she stays away from potatoes and has little to no problems. Amazing, right?

I will follow this diet strictly for 60 days, and then I will reintroduce foods back into my system in varied amounts one week at a time to isolate the specific foods that may be harming my body. Can I have bread? How much? Maybe 1 serving a day is okay, but is there a tipping point? These are things I’ll have to keep in mind as I move forward. I’ll also be keeping a food diary so that I’ll be able to find a common denominator regarding foods that help or harm me.

I’ve told several people this, but I’m sure if I were just doing this diet to lose weight or test my willpower, I’d quit within a week. But it’s different because my wellbeing actually depends on it, which means quitting isn’t an option.

That being said, I’m trying to take this one week at a time. I sat down last night and planned out my meals for the next week, using that as a guide to create a grocery list. We’ll see if this strategy works for me!

I know I will have to get creative in order to keep things interesting. I’ll be posting helpful recipes and giving updates on my experience with the diet. Please let me know if you have tips, recipes, or any suggestions for me as I embark on this new journey to a healthy life and body!

Posted in Hidradenitis Suppurativa, Misc, Paleo | Tagged , , | 12 Comments

How to Thank Someone

Posted on July 12, 2012 by Pooja Parikh

What is the perfect way to express gratitude, really? A thank-you card, a bouquet of flowers, a gift card, chocolate? A picture frame, a poem, a nice watch, a Ferrari, your first-born? What do you do when nothing seems like enough? How many times can you thank someone without sounding like a broken record?

Does this say “thank you”?

How do I truly thank Dr. Charudatta Chaudhari, the man who has essentially saved my life?

These are all questions I’ve been repeatedly asking myself for the past four months. There were obvious answers to some of these questions. Yes, yes, gift him all of the above, and then some! Except, well, my first-born–the man has enough responsibility already.

Then, one day, it hit me: The Greatest Thank-You of All Time. Instead of giving him my first-born, I could just name it after him! It’s a long-lasting gift, and it gives him no extra responsibility. Perfect. AND it would put pressure on my child to achieve greatness–I’ll name you Charudatta Chaudhari, but the “Doctor” part is up to you, kiddo.

So this decision had been made…and then Dr. Chaudhari just had to go and significantly improve my quality of life with the first surgery. The promise of it wasn’t enough–apparently this man believed in follow-through and was determined to make me better. What now? How do I repay the even bigger debt? Ah, yes! Name my second born after him as well! It’s not weird to name both of your children the same thing, right? Differentiating between them isn’t important, neither is their own identity–as long as they identify with the person after whom they’ve been named. Individuality is overrated, anyway.

Well, little did I know, it soon wouldn’t be enough. I had a horrible lesion on my upper thigh that was well on its way to preventing me from being able to walk. It was the size of about half a ping-pong ball, and the swelling/inflammation surrounding it was the size of a pancake. The pain was so severe that it brought me to tears (if you know me, you know that I almost never cry from pain). I went into his office that day for a dressing change, and he decided he needed to do something about that lesion. He stuck a needle in it and drained it (5 cc’s of liquid, before continuing to drain on its own for the next 3-4 days). The relief was immediate and overwhelming. Every other doctor I’ve seen would have sliced me open and created more problems/pain, but Dr. Chaudhari went the virtually painless (but SO much more effective) route. I was left without words.

Anyway, that day, I decided that my future husband would have to change his name to Charudatta Chaudhari. It’s just one of my requirements. If you love me, you’ll oblige, right? Your name cannot possibly mean more to you than it does to me. What, you were named after your great, great, great-grandfather who risked his life and established the family name with his successful leather goods shop? Well, I’m trying to thank someone. Stop being so selfish.

Sigh…and then the second surgery happened. And after a long recovery, I started to feel like my own person again. I could finally get out of bed without assistance, I was able to dress myself, and I took my first independent shower in over half a year. What, now? How can I thank the person who has returned to me my lost independence?

So now I’m left with only one choice…

I’m going to change my name to Charudatta Chaudhari.

Dr. Chaudhari, for my sake, please don’t perform any more miracles on me. I’ve run out of people to name after you.

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Outrageous Diagnosis #1

Posted on July 3, 2012 by Pooja Parikh

As I’ve mentioned in “My Story,” I was handed some pretty intense diagnoses before I was finally given the correct one. They were…stressful, to say the very least. And each one put me through its own layer of hell before it was ruled out.

The first Outrageous Diagnosis was given in December 2009. I had gone through three surgeries, more procedures than I can count on both hands, and even more antibiotics. We finally came to India, desperate to find some answers. It’s important to note that at this point the disease was only affecting the area above my sternum (to our knowledge–I still hadn’t said anything about my upper thighs because I had no idea they could be related).

The diagnosis: Tuberculosis.

Why It Made Sense at the Time:

The bacteria that can cause Tuberculosis can do several different things upon entering your body. There’s a chance that your body will just filter out what you inhaled, and then there’s the more commonly known chance that it’ll travel to your lungs and you’ll develop Pulmonary TB, which is highly contagious and can be fatal. Well, there’s also a third option: the TB can reach your lymph nodes and just hang out there for however long (days, weeks, months, years), then travel to another part of your body and infect it. In order to protect the rest of your body from the disease, a cyst forms around the bacteria and walls it in. This is what we thought had happened to me.

I’m your huckleberry.

Why I Told Almost No One:

Most people (in the U.S.) associate Tuberculosis with Doc Holliday from Tombstone and assume that it’s extremely infectious and dangerous. The way (we thought) I had TB was not contagious AT ALL, nor was it even potentially life-threatening. I didn’t want to worry anyone or risk the possibility of being unnecessarily quarantined or something of the sort. It was best to just keep quiet about it and go through with treatment.

We SHOULD have had a retest done after the results from the culture came back positive, but we did not. ALWAYS INSIST UPON A RETEST. Can you believe how much that would have changed my life? I spent the next year on strong medication (started out taking 20ish pills a day, then it slowly dwindled down to 8ish). Oh, not to mention the fact that I thought I had TUBERCULOSIS. Sure, it wasn’t contagious or life-threatening, but it was terrifying to accept, nonetheless. I was absolutely shocked to my core.

Also, some of the medicines I took had bizarre side effects, including turning my urine orange (too much information?); however, I’ll save listing side effects I’ve experienced for another blog post. It could get excessive.

We realized something was wrong when my symptoms came back the following year, worse than ever. I took off for India yet again in October 2010. After seeing 9 different doctors in 9 days with 9 wildly different opinions, we stumbled upon my Knight in Shining Armor who correctly diagnosed me for the very first time. I remember the mixture of relief and horror that washed over me when I first googled “Hidradenitis Suppurativa” and I saw my entire medical history in front of my eyes as I read about every single symptom I had experienced (along with others I had yet to experience).

Anyway, I don’t have Tuberculosis. I never had Tuberculosis. Oh, happy day!!

Posted in Anecdotes, Hidradenitis Suppurativa | Tagged , , , , | 1 Comment

I Used to be Modest

Posted on June 20, 2012 by Pooja Parikh

A significant aspect of my culture and upbringing has been the stress on modesty. This resulted in an extremely modest person who never wore short shorts and never bore any cleavage whatsoever. In fact, the only time I’d ever gone out in public in a bathing suit (post-puberty) was during a trip to Hawaii after high school, and that was because all were strangers to me except for my two best friends and Nene.

I remember the first time I had to take my shirt off for a doctor. I was embarrassed, uncomfortable, and very awkward. I would squirm around and try to find ways to keep myself covered up…which probably didn’t help the poor doctor who was trying to examine me for my own benefit.

As time passed and I had to show 10, 20, 30 doctors, the awkward feeling slowly dissolved. I eventually would just strip off my shirt and bra without even thinking twice about it. I got used to doctors feeling me up to check for swelling/cysts/abscesses.

It got to the point to where I would periodically start taking my shirt off without being asked. My house, movie theatres, restaurants, grocery stores, the bank–there was no limit to my shirt-removing tendencies. I had developed a habit and could no longer tell the difference between doctor and civilian; I just assumed everyone wanted to help me get better.

And then things got even worse when I had to have surgery on my inner upper thighs. I got so accustomed to spreading my legs (literally) for any doctor or nurse who walked into my hospital room (we’re talking 20-25 people total) so they could examine the surgery site, that I forgot how to interact with people in a socially acceptable way.

I thought it would be okay to walk around without pants on (no one in the hospital seemed to mind), and couldn’t understand why my family members kept insisting that I wore pants. Each person with whom I’d interacted had been a doctor, so everyone was a doctor, right? That’s what I had experienced, and that’s what I believed. In a world full of doctors, surely I could walk around pantsless without attracting any disapproving stares.

Eventually, my mom got fed up with my pantslessness and top-stripping habits and forced me to wear a burlap sack with a security belt around the waist to prevent me from undressing in public. The belt could be unlocked only with a key that my mom kept in her safe in a bank at an undisclosed location. I had no way out.

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Unfortunately, the insistence that I wear clothes at all times pushed me to exhibit compulsive behavior. I started loving clothes. I LOVED THEM. It was like seeing in color for the first time. I could wear them all the time and never frown! I slowly realized that I was afraid to live without clothes…I couldn’t even shower sans clothing. My fate became similar to that of Arrested Development’s Tobias Fünke–that’s right, I had become a Never Nude.

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After consulting a support group and spending 30 hours/week with my psychiatrist, I am now finally able to begin living a normal life again. To my fellow Never Nudes out there: You can too.

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What HS Means to Me

Posted on June 15, 2012 by Pooja Parikh

Isolation. Wishing I could just be like everyone else. Alienating myself because I’m different. Feeling lost and not in control. Misunderstood and judged. Many, many tears. Digging around to find myself in this mess my life has become.

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No, I’m not talking about high school (this photo was taken during my favorite dress-up theme: Nerd Day). I’m one of those few annoying people who had an amazing high school experience that you’ll never see me complain about. I’m talking about Hidradenitis Suppurativa (you can get a brief understanding of my story here).

When I was in the hospital, a nurse came into my room and was like, “Oh yeah, you have that issue with pimples, right?” It was all I could do to smile and mutter, “Something like that.” As someone who has been dealing with acne since I was 8 years old, I wish that pimples were the most of my concern.

I’ve decided to break apart my explanation of the disease into multiple posts for a few reasons:

  1. to avoid information overload
  2. to keep you from falling asleep
  3. to maybe provide a better understanding of how it has affected me

Hidradenitis Suppurativa (HS) is a disease that involves the sweat glands. The affected areas are typically those in which a person sweats the most (underarms, upper thighs, groin, breasts). Most people are able to wash off the bacteria that are released when they sweat, but it’s a bit different with this disease.

Basically, certain bacteria colonize and then build a biofilm around themselves that is almost impenetrable. After this bacterial biofilm is formed, no antibiotic can reach the bacteria, nor can blood tests/cultures detect them (which explains why, even though I was overflowing with infection, reports always came back negative).

These bacteria burrow into the skin, and then infection begins to develop. Sometimes, the abscesses would be closer to the surface and would begin to drain after they ruptured. It was good because this relieved the pressure, but the problem was that once an abscess formed, it never healed, and eventually a deep opening (almost a hole) would form in my skin…gross and extremely painful. Other times, the abscesses would burst underneath my skin and the infection would spread, creating kind of a web of infection throughout the area. It actually got to the point to where I could apply pressure on one area and drainage would be seen at another area entirely due to the tract that had formed.

HS is different in each person who has it, which makes it difficult to treat. What works brilliantly for one person may be destructive for the next. I’ve read several success stories about probiotics and their usefulness in treating the disease, but the probiotic bacteria that comes from curd has actually been a trigger for me, which is why I’ve had to give up dairy products. Treatment is one horribly tedious game of guess-and-check. It can be exhausting, but it’s all I’ve got for now.

Littered throughout upcoming posts, I’ll describe various aspects of the disease and its effect on me (physically and emotionally). I’ll also delve into the subject of my surgeries and what my future with the disease looks like…as well as anything else that may come to mind.

Oh, and also (I just have to)…THUNDER UP.

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Posted in Hidradenitis Suppurativa | Tagged , , , | 3 Comments

That Time I Thought I was Dying

Posted on June 2, 2012 by Pooja Parikh

(Spoiler Alert: I survived.)

Let me start by painting a picture for you:

The morning of Friday, July 24th, 2009 (and by “morning” I mean 3:30am–the one time we were grateful that my dad regularly went to work so early), my dad prepare to leave for work, only to find that his work van had been stolen right out of our driveway. Luckily, it was found abandoned in some ditch 30 minutes or so away from our house around 11:00am (I guess the culprits realized how much that vehicle sucked). This may seem early in the day, but it meant 7 1/2 hours of extreme stress for both of my parents, so that evening they decided to relax and unwind while watching a funny movie. If only they knew how much worse their day was about to get…

My first surgery had been that Monday (July 20th), so my week was spent in recovery. On Friday evening, my friend Tracey came over and we planned on hanging out and watching some Grey’s Anatomy (judge away). On our way home from a trip to Sonic for drinks, I asked Tracey if my face looked different because it felt odd. She shrugged and said it looked fine, so we moved on with our lives.

About 15 minutes later, I suddenly lost the ability to speak and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I ran to the living room and tried to communicate what was happening to my parents (actually I was just asking them to pause the movie…but the rest was pretty apparent), who started panicking, obviously. By this time, the twitching had started as well. My face and head had started twitching big time–it was like I had lost control of my facial muscles and someone was pulling my head up and to the right in a jerking motion. We quickly kicked a very frightened and confused Tracey out (sorry Tracey), grabbed my meds, and headed to the after-hours clinic.

The woman at the front desk took one look at me (frizzy hair, bloodshot eyes, inability to speak, insanely twitching head, contorted spasming face) and said that I needed to go to the Emergency Room ASAP. When we got to the ER, they took me back immediately and called the doctor in. The dizziness had set in, the twitching was worse than ever, and I was slowly suffocating. At this point, I was seriously considering giving my mom the password to my phone so that she’d be able to contact my friends if/when I died…morbid.

The doctor (bless him) took one look at my meds and immediately knew what was happening. I was having an acute dystonic reaction to Prochlorperazine, a medication I had been prescribed for nausea the day before. He gave me Benadryl and fluids through an IV and the symptoms began to reduce almost immediately. He said that if we had gotten there much later, it could have caused some serious damage. Although my reaction wasn’t technically considered an allergic one, I was told to treat that drug as an allergy from then on.

Moral of the story? Know your medicines well. When you see the fine print for medications that you dismiss, thinking the worst you’ll experience is diarrhea, think again. These side effects, no matter how bizarre, actually happen to people. I learned my lesson that day, and now I obsessively read every detail of every medicine I take. The pamphlet that comes with it isn’t even enough for me either–I Google. No need to repeat one of the most terrifying instances of my life.

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Sick People are Gross

Posted on May 31, 2012 by Pooja Parikh

Warning: Some of this post is gross.

When I was younger, I was legitimately afraid of people with orthopedic casts. I was convinced that they were going to use the plaster on their arms to hurt me, so I just steered clear of all of them–including my cousin when he had one (sorry, cousin…now you know).

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Unfortunately, this behavior of mine was never corrected, so as I got older it translated into an aversion of sick people in general. Don’t get me wrong–I’m a fairly nurturing person and I often play the mother figure when any friend/family member is ill or injured. But I’m talking about really sick…as in an appearance that features disheveled hair, sunken in cheeks, pallid complexion, unfocused eyes, etc. Seeing people in that state was always so unnerving to me.

Until I became that sick person.

I didn’t recognize it at first, perhaps because I was too vain to think that it could actually happen to me. There were several occasions on which I realized how disgusting my disease was–my skin turning grey in affected areas, spontaneous episodes of blood just pouring out of my body (on a daily basis), swelling like nobody’s business, and so much fairy dust*. The full impact of it hit me when I was in the hospital after my second major surgery and I saw my reflection–disheveled hair, sunken in cheeks, pallid complexion, and unfocused eyes.

But here’s the thing: no one ever treated me like I was gross. Family, friends, doctors, and nurses all handled me with extreme compassion, no matter how seemingly appalling my situation was. They understood why I was in that awful physical and mental state. They had witnessed the backwards metamorphosis that took place in me because of the pain, the transformation from butterfly to cocoon.

And they somehow knew that I needed physical contact more than I ever had before. They knew that I felt so alienated and alone. They would hug me, take my hand in theirs, put a comforting hand on my forehead, and anything else they could possibly do to reach out to me. They showered me with unconditional love and constantly reminded me that I was beautiful, smart, and capable. And that is what has given me the strength to conquer this illness with a positive attitude.

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Although this process has been far from pleasant, it has been the humbling experience I’ve needed to open my mind and heart. I now know what it’s like to be that gross sick person, and I’m grateful to understand what that person needs. Instead of shuddering, flinching, or uncomfortably looking away, you better believe that I’m going to be one of the first people to show some love, even if it’s as little as an understanding smile.

*The word “pus” makes me cringe so I have decided to replace it with the term “fairy dust.”

Posted in Hidradenitis Suppurativa, Misc | Tagged , , , , | 2 Comments