I have the Poison.

I keep thinking of a scene from one of my favorite Friends episodes. Phoebe has hummus spilled on her fancy dress as they're getting ready for a night out. She shrieks about the hummus. "I have the Hummus!"

Well, I have the Oak.Or the Ivy. Or the Sumac. Who the hell knows? Whatever plant grabbed me, it was the poison kind. And I am a miserably, itchy, disgusting, crazy person. I think I'm showing signs of roid rage.

Once I finally figured out what had caused my arms to look like a road map, I realized that I had made a huge mistake in scratching it for two days. I got myself to a doctor who told me that she had seen 5 cases that day alone and wrote me a prescription for Prednisone. She also volunteered to give me a shot to jump start the healing. Jump start away. She told me to pick a cheek. Somehow I have made it to my 33rd year without having a shot in the rear. It hurt a lot more that I expected it to but it was for a good cause.

Yesterday was Day 2 of the Prednisone experiment and I was starting to feel a little better. Until I went home and felt like I was going to leap out of my skin. My arms itched like nothing I've ever felt before. In desperation, I turned to the internet for any sort of kitchen remedy that looked promising. I skipped over the vinegar bath, the bleach, and the honey paste before finding the oatmeal paste. Oatmeal is in Aveeno. Aveeno is for skin issues. So

Oatmeal paste=Healing. Right?

I made the paste and slopped it on my arms, wrapping the finished products in plastic wrap so I didn't drip on the floor. Finally, I felt some relief. I settled on the floor and tried to zen out. This was good. Calm.

Until the oatmeal began to dry. I have never known torture like this. The oatmeal dried to a glue like consistency and clung to my inflamed arms and I was suddenly desperate to get it off as fast as possible. It was burning and suffocating all at the same time. I peeled it off as fast as I could and left oatmeal dripping down the garbage can and down to the floor. When the burning had passed, it left in its place a horrifying itch. I didn't know which was worse. In my scrambled frenzy for relief, I soaked two towels with cold water and wrapped them around my arms like a demented 80's sweatband wearing Jazzersize queen. Finally, finally, my arms calmed down.

All of the men I work with have been teasing me about my malady. Apparently, they are all immune to The Poison. I will never tromp around in the woods again after this. And now, I'm getting ready to celebrate a long weekend with temps that are supposed to hit 90 degrees. I will be wearing long pants to cover up the mess of my skin.

Cross your fingers that the steroids start to help!And that I don't start growing a mustache.