Round 2 with the red scourge and a carefree matinee
The poison ivy travelled around my body mercilessly and it seemed impossible to prevent it from spreading. I continually scratched my arms, legs and stomach without relief.
Pat warned me of the consequences - to no avail. I woke up three nights in a row in mid-scratching frenzy, arms and legs covered with more rashes and blisters. Once fully awake I would shuffle into the shower with my trusty Sunlight laundry soap.
Pat learned by phone message that our son in Texas didn’t have poison ivy though we had both cleared the same tree branches from a country road. The news didn’t make me feel any better.
One evening while lathering and rinsing exposed areas for a second or third time a verse for a new, heart-rending country song came to mind:
Well I got poison ivy on my a-a-arm,
One little blotch won’t do much ha-a-arm.
But it started to spread to other spots,
Pretty soon I had quite a lot.
Poison ivy runnin’ down my le-e-eg,
Ohhh (heavy on the steel guitar), shoot me please!”
Later that night we re-opened our household medical books. Pat read her Digest while I toweled dry and applied calamine lotion to blisters and anything resembling a spot. Even freckles received attention.
She said, “Most cases of poison ivy rash are caused by directly touching the plant. But it is possible to get the rash by handling anything contaminated with the sap - tools, clothing, etc.”
“The book of home remedies recommends I take a bath with about three-quarters a box of oatmeal. No way,” I said.
["Would you take a bath with Quaker Oats?"]
She looked at me curiously and asked, “When you got poison ivy last September what clothes were you wearing?”
“Running gear. But all my stuff from ‘Dances With Dirt’ (a 100-km. team event held on wild, muddy trails near Hell, Mich.) have been washed and used many times since. Ivy sap won’t be on those clothes.”
“How did you get your soggy gear home from the race?” Pat wanted to know. “In a plastic bag or suitcase?”
I thought carefully while applying a second layer of soothing calamine.
“That’s it!” I exclaimed. “My blue gym bag.I grabbed it out of the closet while packing for Texas. I hadn’t touched it since Michigan. Stink!”
“I guess we’d better wash it too,” Pat said patiently.
As if on cue, once the mystery was revealed, the rashes and blisters visibly receded at a steady pace. Twice daily (or nightly) showers with laundry soap decreased to one and finally to none. And within a week physical health was restored for a mere $1.35 worth of Sunlight and a half bottle of calamine.
I felt so relieved and carefree I offered to treat Pat to a movie on Thursday. We reviewed seven matinees being presented at Rainbow Cinemas for $2.50 and settled on ‘Catch Me If You can.’
The best part?
I didn’t have to scratch my arms or legs once and I didn’t smell like oatmeal.
gah
***
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