When Real Panic Sets In

So, I bet you’re wondering what could possibly wear my fragile psyche down more than the combination of loads of work, Captain Anxiety acting out in his crate, cats vomiting all over expensive couches, a persistent and irritating cough that won’t let me sleep, and relative isolation despite living in one of the world’s most beautiful locations? What MORE could our heroine go through you ask? How about in the middle of a cough-filled sleepless night, she discovers she is actually breaking out in poison ivy rashes in strategic locations all over her body. Yes. That’ll do it.

You see, poison ivy and me… we don’t get along so well. Oh, it doesn’t mind me so much but I’m so intolerant of it touching my skin that I practically break out in hives at the mere mention of the words. As hard as I try to remember, I can’t recall any instances of poison ivy as a child that would make me cry. However, two years ago I had a run in with it that was so bad that it covered approximately 1/3 of my body. It was on my breasts, my stomach, my hips, and my forearms. With so much coverage, you would have though the Mr. and I were having a little outdoor fun. What we actually were doing was employing ourselves in the time-honored, seasonally required apple picking. Apparently, you aren’t supposed to do that half-naked though. Live and learn.

I had so much gauze wrapped around my forearms that it looked like I was either a suicide survivor or that I hadn’t quite finished my mummification process. After enough Benadryl to take down a white rhino, seven creams, two months of various dermatology visits, 2 doses of Prednisone, and weeks of sobbing, it finally receded.

So, don’t worry you say, get ye to a doctor and ask thee for thy magical Prednisone. Only, ahem, Cape Cod has a limited number of Dermatologists and it takes about six months to get in to see them regardless of the begging and the pleading and the promising of first and second born children. These people are, in my opinion, heartless. So then, get ye to the black market (aka, Hyannis medical center) and pick some up there. Which I did… last year… and it didn’t work. And so I ended up going to a dermatologist in Boston and they wanted to cut it out. Well, technically they just wanted to biopsy it to confirm that it was poison ivy (because the rash and the oozing wasn’t enough evidence apparently). But people like me who don’t have insurance, who are very very good at self-diagnosis, aren’t too keen on unnecessary lab fees… so, we just take a prescription for insanely strong topical steroidal cream and just hope for the best. And eventually… that worked.

And so, here we go again. I must make it a point NOT to get poison ivy in the Fall any more. That and to stop frolicking in the woods while naked. Maybe that’ll help.