No good deed goes unpunished: Or, how I messed up my left arm part 3
Author's Note: Part 1 was spraining my left shoulder in judo and Part 2 was spraining my left thumb also in judo.
I spent a great deal of this weekend out and about having fun with friends, hiking in rock creek park, watching movies, playing games, and watching police choppers search for people in the Potomac (but that's a story for another day). By contrast, my dear love, Arielle, spent most of the weekend dutifully assisting her family with the Herculean task of unpacking their vast amounts of household goods. So, I decided on Sunday that after returning from hiking and before hanging out with Arielle, I should assist her and her family in whatever way I could. The goal was to show solidarity and perhaps be of some use as well. Instead, my kind gesture has resulted in no small amount of personal suffering. "How?" you might ask. Read on...
Fault in this endeavor falls squarely on my own shoulders, though fortune did play a role as well. When I arrived at the Kuipers' house, I found them not unpacking inside, but clearing brush in the backyard. They had already cleared nearly 600 sq feet of what had previously been a mixture of leaves, shrubs, plants, and small trees. They handed me a rake and pointed to the ever-expanding frontier and told me to start raking. No sooner had I taken up my position when I spotted something that should have caused me to abort the entire mission: oily, green plants with three notched leaves.
Yes. Poison ivy. Would that it were the green-clad vixen of Batman fame, but alas it was my hated foe, the foul weed that would be more aptly named "hell weed." I immediately hesitated and pointed out the irksome ivy to the Kuipers, but Arie's sisters merely seemed interested in learning to identify the plant. It seems that by some strange twist of fate or perhaps divine mercy (the Kuiper girls are allergic to everything under the sun) the girls seemed completely unfazed by the poison ivy and indeed I have yet to hear any reports of rashes. Perhaps they are immune. But I am certainly not.
It was at this point that I should have abandoned this task and offered to do something constructive far away from the weeds. But instead I was spurred on by Arielle's dogged determination and lulled by the foolish thought that I could quickly clean it off when I was done. For what I realized by the end of the task is that the entire cleared area was probably infested with poison ivy and the oil probably spattered all over everything.
I did wash my legs and arms off, but to no avail. I probably didn’t' do it fast enough and I also forgot that one should always use cold water so as not to open the pores and let the oil in. No, I had forgotten my once disciplined anti-poison ivy routine from the days of scout camp. A routine born in the wake of the most terrible case of poison ivy I've ever had. One that covered my entire right leg from ankle to buttock and required steroids and other prescription medications to heal. Luckily, this time my rash does not even come close to those epic proportions.
But alas, I do have a terrible rash on my left forearm. A rash about the size of my palm. Then probably 30 or so fingernail-sized patches on my legs, arms, and torso (including a tiny patch on my lower lip!). I will probably bear these wounds for at least a week. So if you see me, know that at every moment I am waging a fierce inner battle against my desire to scratch the poison-induced blisters. At least it could be worse, as evidenced by this disturbing picture (WARNING! Don't click if faint of heart!).
At least as a consolation, Mass Effect comes out for PC today, so I should have something to take my mind off the pain and itching.
I spent a great deal of this weekend out and about having fun with friends, hiking in rock creek park, watching movies, playing games, and watching police choppers search for people in the Potomac (but that's a story for another day). By contrast, my dear love, Arielle, spent most of the weekend dutifully assisting her family with the Herculean task of unpacking their vast amounts of household goods. So, I decided on Sunday that after returning from hiking and before hanging out with Arielle, I should assist her and her family in whatever way I could. The goal was to show solidarity and perhaps be of some use as well. Instead, my kind gesture has resulted in no small amount of personal suffering. "How?" you might ask. Read on...
Fault in this endeavor falls squarely on my own shoulders, though fortune did play a role as well. When I arrived at the Kuipers' house, I found them not unpacking inside, but clearing brush in the backyard. They had already cleared nearly 600 sq feet of what had previously been a mixture of leaves, shrubs, plants, and small trees. They handed me a rake and pointed to the ever-expanding frontier and told me to start raking. No sooner had I taken up my position when I spotted something that should have caused me to abort the entire mission: oily, green plants with three notched leaves.
Yes. Poison ivy. Would that it were the green-clad vixen of Batman fame, but alas it was my hated foe, the foul weed that would be more aptly named "hell weed." I immediately hesitated and pointed out the irksome ivy to the Kuipers, but Arie's sisters merely seemed interested in learning to identify the plant. It seems that by some strange twist of fate or perhaps divine mercy (the Kuiper girls are allergic to everything under the sun) the girls seemed completely unfazed by the poison ivy and indeed I have yet to hear any reports of rashes. Perhaps they are immune. But I am certainly not.
It was at this point that I should have abandoned this task and offered to do something constructive far away from the weeds. But instead I was spurred on by Arielle's dogged determination and lulled by the foolish thought that I could quickly clean it off when I was done. For what I realized by the end of the task is that the entire cleared area was probably infested with poison ivy and the oil probably spattered all over everything.
I did wash my legs and arms off, but to no avail. I probably didn’t' do it fast enough and I also forgot that one should always use cold water so as not to open the pores and let the oil in. No, I had forgotten my once disciplined anti-poison ivy routine from the days of scout camp. A routine born in the wake of the most terrible case of poison ivy I've ever had. One that covered my entire right leg from ankle to buttock and required steroids and other prescription medications to heal. Luckily, this time my rash does not even come close to those epic proportions.
But alas, I do have a terrible rash on my left forearm. A rash about the size of my palm. Then probably 30 or so fingernail-sized patches on my legs, arms, and torso (including a tiny patch on my lower lip!). I will probably bear these wounds for at least a week. So if you see me, know that at every moment I am waging a fierce inner battle against my desire to scratch the poison-induced blisters. At least it could be worse, as evidenced by this disturbing picture (WARNING! Don't click if faint of heart!).
At least as a consolation, Mass Effect comes out for PC today, so I should have something to take my mind off the pain and itching.