Itchy, Icky and Sticky

A July hodgepodge of the scratchiest kind

It was the best of July’s, it was the worst of July’s.

That’s what Dickens meant, right?

I find myself relating somewhat though I would like to add an amendment- it was the weirdest of July’s too.  At least in my world.

There was the good- 2 awesome rock concerts, a fun water park adventure, a new drink discovery that is a watermelon mojito, and lots of social time with friends.

There was the bad- way too many doctor appts, way too many over the counter medications, a heat wave, a new diagnosis, a tornado.

Through all of that was the weird appearing in both good and bad ways- how can the Rolling Stones still be amazing when they are all in their 70’s??!! This was no “tribute to a by gone era” performance. This was a full on, can you believe it, rock and roll, powerhouse show.

The tornado-though scary- actually caused no injuries and lead to a 2^nd night at the aforementioned water park.

I live on Cape Cod and we’re familiar with hurricanes and blizzards, and I appreciate a good Nor’easter as much as the next guy.  But a tornado?  What’s a girl to do when a rare tornado rips through her town taking with it all of the electricity for over 36 hours? 

I mean, how can you not extend your water park visit?  There just didn’t seem to be any other options.

But through all of this was the scratching that lead to a new medical diagnosis- I have chronic hives. A condition of which there is no known cause and no known cure.

Sound familiar?

All one can really do is try to treat the symptoms and try not to scratch, which turns out is important as scratching makes the condition worse.

Remember in my last post when I said that it’s my body and I’ll scratch if I want to?  Well, it turns out that when our parents warned us against scratching when we had poison ivy, poison oak, or chicken pox they knew what they were talking about.

(Unlike when they told us we couldn’t go swimming for 20 hours after we ate lest we get a tummy ache and drown.)

So, if you’re keeping track, I have now been diagnosed with breast cancer- a very scary and serious illness that turns out, fortunately, to be only somewhat scary when you catch it early. (Reminder- please, please, please get your cancer screenings done my friends.)

Multiple Sclerosis, a very serious illness with no known cause and no known cure that can be completely invisible and thus doesn’t look too serious.

And chronic hives, a not so serious illness with no known cause and no known cure that is terribly visible and looks very serious.  Especially in the summer when short sleeves are a necessity.

Nothing topical is helping the itchiness and because of the scratchiness that comes with the itchiness my limbs are a frightening mess.

I’ve checked and I’m not contagious but tell that to the multitude of families who were freaked out by my entering the wave pool with skin covered in scratches, redness, puffiness, and general ickiness, combined with general itchiness.

My water park companions told me not to be so self-conscious; I was fine, and nobody was looking at me.  But they were 7 and 8 and their opinion was likely altered by the fact that they were desperate to get into the park and they weren’t doing that without me, their only chaperone.

This situation reminded me of the time years ago when I had gum surgery right after Christmas as that was the best time to take off work.  The stitches were done with black threads and I was very aware of how awful they looked.  Still, my friend really wanted me to go to a New Year’s Eve party with her and tried to convince me, “it really doesn’t look that bad Yvonne, it just looks like you have food stuck between your teeth.”

Who wants to go to a New Year’s Eve party looking like they have food stuck in their teeth?

Anyone?

Anyone?

I didn’t go to that party but at the water park I did what I had to do. I jumped in the lazy river and prayed that I had a huge “not contagious/clear to swim” sign over my forehead.  How ironic that in the medical world I live in something horrible like MS looks fine and something innocuous like hives looks horrible?

My doctor referred me to a dermatologist who has informed me that there really isn’t anything that can control the itchiness.

(I already knew this- I had tried everything in the pharmacy as well as almost everything on the internet. I even bathed in oatmeal.  Yes, oatmeal.  Sticky, icky and still itchy.)

But he said we can try to treat the hives themselves with an intense allergy regime.  I don’t think it’s working but I can say this, I haven’t sneezed in months so that’s something.

Next up is a shot which I’m actually looking forward to? How did I get here- a point where a shot is something exciting in which I’m eager to participate??!!!

And through it all, it’s July and it’s hot.  Here’s an MS statement for you- if you can’t tell if your AC is working or not, you might have multiple sclerosis.  Mine probably is working.  The bugs seem to like it as they use its filter as an invite to come hang out with me.

But still, I feel icky.

And sticky.

And itchy.

And that’s just for July.

Who knows what August will bring?

I’ll be ready.  But if it’s going to be itchy and sticky here’s hoping there will be more good weirdness lumped in!

Note– I had a bit more trouble with this month’s blog and perhaps that’s because lately, my mind has been as scattered as the whole month has been.  One of the things I’m hoping to focus on in August is the edits on my latest manuscript.  This story has nothing to do with multiple sclerosis but is a coming of age tale set in my quirky hometown and featuring an appropriate, incredibly inappropriate relationship.  There’s a section about bees and since lately I’m all about hives which reminds me of beehives which reminds me of bees, I thought I might include it at the end of this blog.  I’m sort of using you guys as test readers for this small portion.  I don’t have a publisher and I’m not sure this will ever see the light of day.  But, if you like it and happen to know some publishers I would love to chat!!! 

 

Here it goes-

 

………….While technically a private club for veterans, the VFW in our town featured a bar open to the public as long as you signed a guest book.   Since everyone knew everyone, everyone was considered a guest of one veteran or another.  Dark and smoky, the bar was in the basement below the regular VFW Hall.  The steps were in the back of the building and once you entered it was like entering an American cave filled with medals, flags, memorabilia and memories of our town’s heroes. The guest book was right at the entrance and after your eyes adjusted to the haze, it was hard not to find a familiar face sitting at the bar.  Especially since you had most likely surveyed the parking lot before heading down the steps.  It was a great place to play pool and get strong, cheap drinks. 

                Apparently Jason had also been banned and was pretty furious about it.  According to Wayne, Jason showed up one night years before drunk and belligerent and was ordered to leave.  He not only refused but supposedly opened a box full of bees he had with him, letting them fly into the club.  The mostly drunk townies freaked out as the bees, trained by Jason, zeroed in on people to sting.  The police were called, and my dad showed up alone and he too, freaked out at all the bees and didn’t know what to do.  To save everyone from the swarm, my dad and the bartender, Old Manny, had to beg Jason to magically gather the bees by apologizing and promising him they would lift the ban. 

                While listening to the story I indulged Wayne but didn’t believe it for a second.  My dad was known as a fair, cool cop who would give people a break if he thought they were being honest with him, mostly because he hated writing tickets and arrest reports.  But if you wouldn’t pay attention to reason, then he would take you in and wasn’t afraid to do so.  I couldn’t imagine my dad losing it over some obnoxious insects and the whole incident was too crazy to be believed, even for my quirky town.  On the way home that night I asked Richard the real story.

“Well, I wasn’t there,” he said.  “But the way I heard it was more like Jason showed up drunk, Old Manny kicked him out and he stood in the doorway yelling and swearing.  There must have been a nest over the door because while he stood there a couple of bees came in.  The police were called and when your dad showed up, he told Jason to calm the hell down.  When he wouldn’t, your dad took him into protective custody, less paperwork than an arrest, I guess.  I think I heard that Manny started complaining about the bees Jason had let in and your father said something like, ‘well, get a fly swatter or something.  I have handcuffs for people for Christ’s sake, not bees.’”