Beware the Evil Vines......

Yes, it's been awhile. First, I was unmotivated. Bit of a family drama. Maybe more on that in "Bogus Journey", maybe not. Now, however, I'm just an open running sore. I am not using poetic license to describe my emotional state. I am LITERALLY an open running sore. The covering on my arms is barely recognizable as skin. My legs look like a cross between end stage leprosy and that flesh eating disease. My stomach and chest are covered with festering itching, burning sores. It started like this....

The other Saturday (over a week ago!) I cut the grass in 95 degree heat. Humidity was about 85%, there was an ozone action alert, and the UV index was 53 seconds to a third degree burn. Needless to say, it was quite uncomfortable. I have mentioned that we have construction of a housing development going on around our property. The six spec homes are complete and our county was preparing for the annual "Parade of Homes". All the builders showcase their handiwork. And all the nosey citizens ("construction experts") parade through, critiquing the exterior persona and landscaping, interior design and general shoddy workmanship. This is a big deal. In preparation for trying to sell, or at least generate interest in the half million dollar home that adjoins our property in the back, the builder asked if he could clear and seed our tree line. These trees are 80 years old and the ground they are growing in has never been cultivated. It was fields of corn on both sides for nearly a century. We said, "Sure"! It saved us months of backbreaking work and/or lots and lots of money for landscaping service. I noticed that there was still some clean-up to be done. There are weeds and a few stray stumps that make it impossible to use either our riding or hand mower to keep the newly planted grass in check. The weed whacker is out of the question. I can't use it. I'm not large enough. It's a humongous, hideously old, gas guzzling monstrosity. Tall One cannot go anywhere near the tree line. He has legitimate reasons. We are now getting to the sinister part.

Growing up around these old, massive trees are equally old, massive labyrinths of vines. They are ancient poison ivy plants. Tall One is allergic. He can not even be down wind of poison plants or he breaks out. And from the crying, whining and general display of abject misery, I'm afraid he WILL DIE from an outbreak! So last week, being already hot, dirty and miserable; wanting to make a good impression on the potential-home-buying-future-neighbors filing through the new house during the "Parade of Homes"; and wanting to keep up the appearance of the newly landscaped tree line, I thought I would begin to clear out the poison.

Growing up, I never got poison. I was proud of this. I would brag about this. A few years ago, I fell off my bike into an entire field of poison plants and two weeks later I had a quarter sized rough patch on my arm that sort of itched. That may have been poison, or a bad mosquito bite. I have done some Internet research on poison ivy, oak, and sumac because of Tall One. I don't want him to die. So I knew that I should shower for a long time, in cold water, after being exposed to poison ivy. Which I did. But I guess it doesn't really matter how long you shower or how cold the water is if: 1). you are hacking at the poison with a saw and hedge clippers; 2.) climbing the tree and pulling the vines down on your head; 3). chopping and carrying said vines to the mulch pile; 4). wearing shorts and a tank top.

I admit it now. I was cavalier. I was haughty. I thought I could beat the mighty vines, the serrated leaves. I thought I was immune....I'm not. I am seriously covered with this reaction. It doesn't just itch, it oozes, burns and stings. When it becomes too much, or before bed, I take a shower in the hottest water I can stand (really, according to Internet intelligence it's ok to do that once the rash develops, the urushiol oil (ivy's answer to nuclear weapons) has soaked into your skin and won't spread further - and yes, for all you intellectuals, "Internet intelligence" is, in fact, an oxymoron) for as long as I can stand it. This, theoretically, keeps me from scratching my skin open and dying of sepsis. I also douse myself with alcohol (isopropyl, externally and wine, internally). I don't think this regime is good for 50 year old skin. I'm worried about the long term effects. My skin had began to betray me, even before this latest ravishment.

So, what have I learned? Poison Ivy is an evil intelligence. I think my initial breakout, disguised as a bug bite, after the biking accident was so minor because, a.) the plants were young, it was their first kill, and b.) the mother plants were lulling me into complacency, they were taking advantage of my inexperienced bravado, they were planning to take me down. They are as patient as they are cunning. And they will one day rule the world! I've read that immunity to poison plants changes over time. The plants themselves are difficult to identify, they can change and mask their appearance. In reality, they are keeping us off guard. And, now with global warming...their time has come. I won't be clearing out the rest of the ivy. At least not any time soon. I, too, am devious and I will get my revenge! We are spraying the area with industrial strength herbicide from a safe distance, hopefully, killing all green life as we know it (the grass is collateral damage), and this fall I might try and clear it wearing protective clothing approved by Hazmat for protection against bio-hazards and coating my skin with aluminum containing antiperspirant, that, apparently, helps to keep the plants defense mechanism from infiltrating your pores. I am now, properly, ivy, oak, and sumac phobic.I will remain hypersensitive for perhaps months, but even after that, I won't be risking anaphylactic shock by tempting the newly acknowledged Gods of weed infestation.

Here's an update: Over this past weekend my arms and knees swelled to uncomfortable proportions and my skin felt like the larval stage of alien roaches trying to eat their way through from the inside. I was really, really miserable...there was no relief...I cannot emphasize this enough! Well, last evening (Monday) the swelling started to subside. NOW the itching has started in earnest. Oh, I thought it itched before! The affected areas aren't just bright red anymore, but that sickly purplish red, scaly, splotchy, diseased looking color. I have only one pair of shorts that I can physically stand to wear and they are old, faded, and look particularly awful with the elastic waist band rolled low on my hips. But, that's the only way I can bear to have them positioned. Fortunately, they are of a neutral color. I have a fine selection of tank tops with built in bras, unfortunately, the heat wave has broken and it's technically too cool to wear them without a sweater. But I will, I have no choice. And you can't see the goose bumps for the poison.