Heck Of A Guy

With the approach of summer, my buddy, the Duke Of Derm (Dr. DOD), issues his annual warning to each of his patients about the dangers of sunburn. Because he carefully explains the reasons and risks as well as outlining precautions, has built a bond of rapport and trust with his clients, and takes a empathic, personal approach to healthcare, it’s not unusual for two or three patients every year to actually follow his advice.

For those who, despite the admonitions of Dr. DOD & his sort, suffer, consequent to exposure of the skin to ultraviolet radiation, an acute cutaneous inflammatory reaction (AKA sunburn), the Heck Of A Guy Blog offers, as part of our ongoing Sumer Is Icumen In series, this advisory:

Practical Management of Sunburn

1. Slather the afflicted area with massive quantities of potions. An ordinary kitchen spatula is useful in this regard (note: a spatula with a flexible plastic or rubber blade will prove less traumatic to already tender skin; trust me, do not believe your so-called friends if they advise applying sunburn remedies with, say, a cheese grater).

Begin with a base layer of a dermatologist-approved sunblock with an SPF of 30 or more.

Sunblock will do nothing to heal the existent sunburn but, given that you have already ignored sunburn prevention advice, there is an excellent chance that you’ll choose to endure the pain to return to sunbathing before your skin has healed, and the sunblock may lessen further damage. Also, you could use the practice applying sunblock.

During the sunblock application, chant this healing mantra, “If only I had listened to the wise, compassionate, and not unattractive Dr. DOD and used this sunblock before I spent 18 consecutive hours on the beach … . I am such a dope. I will send him large amounts of money in small denomination, unmarked, non-sequential bills as penance; I will fall upon my knees – once they heal enough that I can tolerate kneeling – and beg him to allow me to continue to be his patient even though I am a foolish, ungrateful wretch who did not follow his altogether astute advice; and I will comply with his instructions henceforth and forevermore. Amen.”

This is a useful adjunct to the mourning process, amuses those observing you, affords the opportunity for at least eight people in the vicinity to trot out that “closing the barn door after the horse has escaped” bromide, and generally establishes your reputation as a schmuck too stupid to use sunblock.

Next, spread a layer of a cocoa-butter blend followed by a coating of aloe vera. One can eliminate redundant purchases by forgoing specialized lotions in favor of aloe-impregnated facial tissues which can be spread over ones body, affording not only the illusory benefits attributed to aloe but also direct protection from UV light and a stunning visual impact reminiscent of Christo’s projects.

While there is no medicinal value in these salves, the consequent odor and grotesque appearance will discourage anyone from touching you – or, indeed, staying in the same room with you.

2. As soon as possible, take a cold shower. Maintain good posture with knees unlocked and weight on the balls of your feet, breath abdominally, and raise your soft palate.

Proper body alignment enhances the resonate and tonal qualities of your screaming.¹

3. For the first two days, make hourly forays into a ritual bath of chilled goats milk, supervised by an entourage of semi-obese men wearing togas. And maybe Birkenstocks.

Doing this will keep you out of the sun at least part of the time. Otherwise, we’re just screwing with you.

4. Palliative care is best effected by the use of ethanol-based products.

Note: these are not to be applied externally but must be taken by mouth and rarely prove effective unless taken in amounts large enough to elicit gasps from bystanders; Finlandia vodka, for example, especially if kept below 32 degrees, has proven useful in ameliorating this and many, many other situations with no side-effects more dangerous than those caused by sugar pills – if the sugar pills are given to a brittle diabetic.

5. Eschew the stoic Brave Little Soldier stance in favor of the Continuously Whining Wuss role. Do not needlessly take the risk that your friends and loved ones might not grasp or might forget the severity of your suffering. Use these universal signals of malignant sunburn:

• Moan with every movement, including those that cause no discomfort. You have a responsibility to avoid the confusion that will inevitably occur among members of your audience if you express pain sometimes but not others.
• Periodically draw back your lips in a death’s head grin, close your eyes as tightly as possible, and then inhale forcefully. A delightful reverse hiss should result. Once you have mastered the basic movement, you may wish to augment it with a hunching of the shoulders and/or shaking your head very slowly.
• Never underestimate the value of straightforward, reiterated complaints of discomfort, pain, abandonment by fair-weather friends, the perfidy of the medical community that chooses to waste resources on curing cancer, AIDS, and other name-brand illnesses rather than attend to creating treatments for sunburn, and cosmic injustice. These complaints must be frequently and repeatedly voiced, lest a new arrival to the scene miss the news.

6. If you have second- and third-degree burns covering more than 70% of your body, avoid rugby, full contact karate death matches, and nude frolics during sandstorms.

7. Be prepared with responses for colleagues and coworkers who make lighthearted jokes about or offer folk remedies for sunburn. Those of you searching for clever, diplomatic comebacks would be well served to view the “I’m gonna git Medieval on your ass” segment of Pulp Fiction for inspiration as well as to garner specific strategies and tactics.

1. Photo by matt_e via Flickr↩