I’ve decided I better write this while I can. If it’s possible to die from whining, I may do so. My ex-boyfriend says if anyone can die from whining, I can. It’s rather comforting he has faith in me.
It all started innocently enough, if that’s how it started. Despite the number of hours I’ve spent watching educational shows like “House”, “The Walking Dead”, etc., I’m not a medical professional. However, assuming it may be related, it started with what I thought was “dry, itchy skin” maybe six months ago. My forehead and ears were itchy, dry, and flaky. I chalked it up to my visits to the gym and the perspiration I put out there, and switched to a softer cloth for sweat-dabbing.
Things didn’t improve, they got worse. I decided maybe it was my new facial cleanser, and went back to my old one. I added a thicker moisturizing cream at night.
I continued to blissfully ignore any signs of something more insidious, until a couple of weeks ago. This was when that “dry flaky skin” became more obviously HIVES. Raised nasty bumps near my eyes and on my hands. Given my vast medical knowledge garnered from movies like “Contagion” and “Outbreak”, I knew this was NOT RIGHT. I made an appointment with my doctor.
After being chastised repeatedly by the nurse to STOP SCRATCHING/TOUCHING IT, my doctor looked me over – and took photos. (Perhaps my hives will be famous!) She suspected I was having an allergic reaction, and prescribed both a steroid cream and an antibiotic cream, and told me to make an appointment with a dermatologist. She assured me it was absolutely not contagious and to stop resisting shaking anyone’s hand.
I made an appointment with the dermatologist’s office, which is a feat in and of itself. Specialists are always booked weeks, if not months, in advance. The earliest appointment available was six weeks from now. I expressed my disappointment. The woman on the phone asked if I had hives “right now”. No, I’m planning on having hives in six weeks. YES, I have hives NOW. They finally decided they could fit me in for an appointment in two weeks.
I also brought my situation to the attention of the “people on the Internet”, because everyone knows going to a physician is only half as useful as finding a group on the World Wide Web for “what is this, and do you think it’s contagious?” One of the Internet experts determined I was allergic to peanuts and should stop eating peanut butter out of the jar (with chocolate chips). I did, but now I was itchy and in severe peanut butter withdrawal. I don’t always eat peanut butter – I’ve gone MONTHS without eating peanut butter. However, that’s because I didn’t feel like eating peanut butter. Being told I should not or cannot do/eat something – that’s another matter. That makes me want that something RIGHT NOW REALLY BAD.
Edited to add: It was Friday night that I purchased Sarna lotion and Benadryl and took Benadryl… this may be a clue…. because:
When I woke up last Saturday morning, the hives had worsened and my eyes were swollen. I brushed my teeth (but not my hair) and went to the pharmacy in my pajamas to pick up my prescriptions. The nice thing about looking like poo is the pharmacists generally seem sympathetic and eager to serve you – and get you the heck out of the store before you scare the other customers.
Of course, the prescription creams come in tiny bottles and cost a lot. I applied them to the affected areas of my face and… it STUNG… but it made the itching bearable, for a time. I hoped this saga would be coming to an end.
My body seemed to have other ideas. Within days, I had hives covering my arms, legs, back… what had been a few itchy red patches on my face and hands became an entire body outbreak. My whining had increased exponentially, and I was starting to flail on pieces of upholstered furniture waving my arms and legs in an attempt to itch my entire body at once.
So, that’s where things stand at present. I am whining and scratching… I sleep a few hours until I have to get up and scratch more. Even Rumpelmintz seems to have some pity for me and has put her paw on my arm as though to comfort me – or stop me from annoying her with my scratching. A few coworkers have said I make them feel itchy, and scratch sympathetically.
I see the dermatologist on Friday. Let’s hope for a miracle cure!