Choose Your Poison

Uncle P is currently the victim of some sort of plant poison. I doubt it's poison ivy as a particularly bad bout with it as a child left me immune. The weeds, vines and unwanted tees growing along my neighbors' fences which surround my back yard (or 'garden' for my UK, NZ ad AU readers) are incredibly varied and often unidentifiable. 

I know there's lots of Rose of Sharon, Honeysuckle and Briar, though there are dozens more growing over, through and under the various fences surrounding my property. If you follow me regularly, you know I am still in the process of cleaning up the debris left by my well-intentioned BIL in May. I suspect it is during this clean-up that I contracted whatever it is that has left my ankles, left thigh and left arm with angry, itchy and downright nasty red rashes which are driving me insane.

Yes, I am using both cortisone cream for the itch and a product recommended by both a dear friend and my local pharmacist to stop the rash's spread. Both are helping, but neither seems to be curing. Every time I think one of the rashes is healing, another one appears on a new limb or a new area of an already affected limb. It burns. It itches. It's ugly. I hate it.

One week from today, Uncle P will be visiting Chicago for both business and vacation. I'll be meeting up with at least two dear friends and hopefully having some non-committed fun (if you know what I mean - nudge, nudge, wink,wink) and I certainly hope these rashes are long gone before then. I don't consider myself a 'Prize' by any means and this unfortunate turn of events certainly doesn't help to upgrade my desirability. 

Honestly, I think my life could be included in the Lemony Snicket books, "A Series of Unfortunate Events." Every time I think things are going well, something comes along to say "Eff You and Your Life!" Of course, this is nothing more than a "First World Problem" or a "White Whine." I know there are people in the world with far worse problems than an uncomfortable rash. It still seems like these kinds of nuisances pop up at the worst possible times...

Of course, I could just be a whiny d-bag who doesn't appreciate how good my life is, compared to many. I'll leave that up to you to decide. In the meantime, I'll be doing my best not to scratch.

At least I know this isn't the issue (nor will it ever be):

More, anon.
Prospero