Well, this isn't exactly the most pleasant experience of my life.

Apparently I have completely blocked the itching portion of my sixth-grade bout with chickenpox from my mind completely, because I have never been so itchy in my life. I have a big, red, blotchy rash that runs from my arches all the way up to my wrists. It has not, thank God, gotten to my face (although that is occasionally itchy) or on the skin under my breasts, but it's everywhere else. Areas flare up out of nowhere and burn like fire or thousands of tiny needles pricking at once. I had to race in the bathroom at least once tonight to douse my feet in cold water before they spontaneously combusted (or at least that's how it feels). I wake up in the middle of the night rubbing one heel over my instep in a frantic bid to stop that itch, and stop at corners to rub myself like a bear.

It's my second day on doxycycline and I can't wait for it to kick in a little. Mostly I feel exhausted because the itching wakes me up during the night and the Lyme itself makes my joints ache. (It doesn't help that "spring has sprung" and the pollen is up, which gives me joint aches on its own.) This morning I was stir-crazy, so dressed in an unorthodox outfit of my dog-walking pants (cheap scrubs) and a long-sleeved dress shirt of James' that he had to discard due to a big ink-blot on the pocket. My usual white socks alone took my breath away because they made me feel like I had beach sand between my toes. I went to the Friends of the Library Book Sale and was done in in ninety minutes. Pickings were slim: I got Victoria Thompson's newest "gaslight mystery" which I would have bought in December in paperback, a Dorothy Sayers biography and another for E.B. White, and three dust-coverless "Happy Hollister" books. That's the least that I've ever come out of there with; the pickings were slim. I was happy to see someone picked up the brand-new copy of Karal Ann Marling's Merry Christmas! (a history of the holiday) because I couldn't think of one person I could buy it for. Plus I was amused when a complete collection of Theodore Roethke poems fell right open when I picked it up to my favorite Roethke poem, "I Knew a Woman." Evidently the book saw me coming.

Came home to take my next dose and pretty much collapse on the futon in the spare room for the rest of the afternoon, all the way from 11:30 to 4:30. It's like I can't drink up enough sleep.

Labels: books, sickness

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. . . . . noted and logged by Linda at 10:16:00 PM

Comments:

I am sorry you are so miserable and hope the meds start giving you relief soon. I had severe itchiness when I was treating a basal cell carcinoma with a topical irritant last summer, and dam but it was hard not scratch myself bloody. At least you have a real diagnosis now.

# posted by  FiveAcres : 8:12:00 AM

 

I'm glad she tested me. I would have never imagined getting Lyme even in GA at this time of year; it was cold up until a week or so ago. This wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't everywhere; I could stand my arms or back, but the foot part is terrible. I can't stand to have socks on.

Did the treatment work on your carcinoma?

# posted by  Linda : 12:54:00 PM

 

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