Each year I vow to put away my weeding gloves once and for all so as never to feel this silent form of torture again. Although it's possible I acquired this from yard work, given my history, I am pretty careful about avoiding the dreaded leaves of three. Plus, while out biking last week, I specifically remember riding past someone who was weed whacking and didn't feel the need, or the kindness, to turn off his weed whacker as we rode straight through his flying debris. Note to self (and my fellow biking companion): next time, let's cross to the other side of the road. I'd rather risk oncoming cars than deal with this again!
I guess it makes no difference how I acquired poison ivy. All that matters is how to get rid of it now that it's gotten a chokehold over me and won't let go.
So there I am, one day after seeing the first signs of itch, at the doctors office with new patches on my neck to offer as evidence of my predicament. I am given two choices. I can either take Prednisone for the next 10 days, or be given a one-time shot. Both, I'm assured work equally well. Um, hello? No brainer. Give me the shot.
A few hours go by. I'm back at home and itchy as all hell. In fact, this might be what Hell is like; having eternal poison ivy and a counter full of products that offer little to no relief. I've purchased and tried nearly every product on the market, including a suggested poison ivy wash (sold OTC for, get this, 35 bucks!). What can I say, I was desperate and hoping beyond hope 'you get what you pay for.' Sadly, it offered only brief relief until I used it all up...after only two showers.
Somehow I made it through the weekend, only slightly distracted by my daughter's birthday and a mild Benadryl haze. But first thing this morning I called my doctor's office again and was given another appointment.
I tell my doctor I felt no comfort after the first shot she gave me. With a sympathetic ear she informs me I'm her very first patient to ever return for a second shot. Lucky me. A poison ivy magnet. So I receive another shot and a much-begged-for prescription for topical cortisone. God help me. Let this work!
Even now as I write this, five days after the first shot and nine hours after the second, I am gouging my skin like I have an army of ants picnicking just under the surface. I sit here and wonder a) if I was given a placebo in first shot, b) how much longer will it take for this itching to call a cease fire on my limbs, and c) if I hadn't gotten the shots at all, how much worse would I be feeling?
Strangely there is always some comfort in knowing it could be worse. And all it takes is once visit to the world wide web to see how much worse it could actually be. So, as I peruse pictures and tales of woe way worse than mine, I'll quit my _itching. For now.
As soon as I can stop rubbing my skin raw and I venture back outdoors, whether in my yard or on my bike, I'll surely be whispering, "Leaves of three, LET ME BE!!!!"
