Last week, I realized that Early Spring had quite suddenly become Mid-Spring, and that I have a good amount of garden cleanup to tackle. I spontaneously decided to cut down some weed trees along the back fence one morning before work.
The itching started a couple days later.
Wait — there’s not any poison ivy back there… right? The poison ivy lives in the front garden by the dying dogwood tree, and over by the office window, but not along the back fence!
Well, I double-checked. Looks like it does now.
I wasn’t expecting it, so I wasn’t watching for it. I had seen the tiny sprigs and thought it was a volunteer raspberry bush, and cut it back along with the weed trees. Since the branches were small ones, I’d picked them up with the piles of twigs and carried them across the yard to toss in the garbage.
The first itchy spot cropped up on the inside of my left forearm, where I’d pushed up the sleeve of my sweatshirt.
Right then, I should have showered and scrubbed all over with Tecnu. But I didn’t.
And it spread.
I am so sensitive to urushiol.
It’s a week later, and I’m still finding new blisters and itchy spots. Anywhere my soiled fingernails touched: neck, waist, and places that don’t ever see sunshine.
At this point, Benadryl antihistamine pills and Clobetasone prescription steroid cream are pretty much all I need. That and patience.
