The Seven Year Itch

I probably should've suspected something was wrong when I woke up at 5 Saturday morning because my feet were itching so badly. After a string of night shifts, I had stayed awake all day in order to switch my sleeping schedule back to normal. So, in my sleep-deprived state, being awoken after 4 hours of sleep may give you an idea of how itchy my feet were. I gave them a good scratching, slathered on some lotion and went back to sleep for an hour or so.

I had signed up for an all day disaster relief training with the Red Cross. As the training started, the itching spread from my feet to my arms and legs. Luckily, my roommate who is also a nurse was sitting next to me. I rolled up my sleeves and asked her if it looked like hives to her (it is always so much harder to diagnose yourself). The rapidly appearing red splotches made it clear I was having some sort of allergic reaction. I itched like a 4 year old with chicken pox until our lunch break when I was able sneak away and buy some Benadryl. While it eased the itching, it did not help what was already an uphill battle to stay awake during the long and monotonous video segments.

Well, at the end of the day, I was trained to work in a relief shelter and I was also convinced that I was allergic to the antibiotic my doctor had put me on for a minor skin infection. I channeled my inner Sister Missionary yesterday wearing my longest skirt and highest blouse and now, thank goodness, the hives are all but gone.

So I guess I should just call it the seventy-two hour itch.