For the past week, I have been driven to brink of insanity with a severe case of poison sumac. My fingers were the worst, all swollen and blistered. The blisters traveled up my arm to the right side of my face and on the tip of the right ear. When I woke up Friday morning, I felt more forming on my upper lip and in my nose. My blisters mocked the over the counter remedies. Rubbing alcohol, cortisone, solarcaine, oatmeal soap, toothpaste. Bah! Time to utilize the health plan.
That Friday morning as I felt my nose swelling, I roused the kids from their beds and had them dressed and eating fried crap at the Burger King that faced the walk in medical center before 8:00. I had to be the first one in there, because I needed relief. All I wanted to do was itch. I could think of nothing else. Hurry, kids, eat those hash browns. No, better yet. Let's take them with us. Put them in your pocket. Come on! Quick!
Itch. Itch. Itch.
The doctor took one look at my arm. I thought it was a bad sign when she backed away from me to the other side of the examining room. That bad, Doc?
Those knowledgeable in the ways of torture know that there are various ways to achieve extreme discomfort in humans. There's extreme heat, extreme cold, sleep deprivation, and, of course, there's itching.
Itch.
On Saturday, Steve sought revenge on the evil vegetation. In 89 degree heat and covered in flannel, heavy jeans, two pairs of socks, Steve uprooted sumac and just about every other plant that got in his way. If the heat hadn't slowed him down, he might have paved the entire backyard.
Pumped up with steroids and anti-histamines, I'm starting to recover. The blisters are forming a hard crust and have stopped spreading. Still, when I wake up in the morning, before I take that first pill, all I want to do is scratch.
Let's see if you get to the extremely entertaining, "Hey, everybody, watch my crusty blistered yellowish flesh continously weep pus" phase. I didn't want to itch when I got to that point, but I did need to dab myself with a paper towel every ten minutes to keep from soaking pus into the furniture.
Posted by: Timothy Burke | August 30, 2004 at 08:04 AM
Aw, Laura, I'm so sorry...how awful for you.
Get well soon!
Donna
Posted by: Donna Boucher | August 30, 2004 at 10:49 AM
You know there are other ways to get your own bed at apsa ; )
Posted by: tonimacaroni | August 30, 2004 at 11:37 AM
Laura, we're eyeing every plant on the property with suspicion now that we've read about your experience.
Of course, I am city-foolish when it comes to foliage; in fact, at one point, I was conviced we had, well, pot plants growing in one corner of our little patch of country. How did they get there? I sputtered. An elderly man was this property's only other owner. Will *I* get in trouble for this?
I was, as they say, beside myself.
Imagine my embarrassment, then, when I dragged my sister, the master gardener of my clan of origin, over to identify (and destroy!) the villainous leaves. I couldn't make out the damned (and, as it turns out, inocuous) plant's *real* name because she was laughing too loudly (at me!). So I turned to the only real friend one can count on in one's ignorance: a book.
It's a bunch of weeds back there, all right, but not pot.
Anyway, best wishes for a full (and speedy recovery). We linked you folks again recently. You're one of our favorite web-stops.
MFS
Posted by: MFS | August 30, 2004 at 08:32 PM
so sorry bout your sumac situation. I hope you're feeling better!
gardening can be a blood sport, but that's just too much. what a nightmare.
Posted by: Mo Ryan | August 30, 2004 at 08:46 PM
I am so sorry, I thought I had posted for you and all ivy/sumac sufferers the Miracle Cure. I swear, I have no connection with these folks.
Zanfel. it really works. I swear. http://www.zanfel.com/girm/.
I sometimes have to do it twice, but that's it, and I used to be a swollen mess.
Posted by: Liz | September 02, 2004 at 02:55 AM