If I didn’t have half the world’s produce in my fridge, I’d think it was scurvy.

You know nothing can ever be simple with me. You know this. You know this kidney stone incident has been cursed from start, to finish. I know this. I know this.

So I was unsurprised when a mysterious rash started near the surgical site this weekend. It was just on the left side of the surgical site, so at first I thought the itchy, itchy hives were maybe an allergic reaction to the instruments or something that had brushed or pressed against me while the medical team was angling to get the kidney stone out of the right side of my body. Except when I talked to them, they said everything was draped. Short of an allergy to latex (which would have manifested in more than just the left side), it wasn’t that.

My mystery rash kept spreading, fingers of red bumps moving down my left thigh. (Yes, I know – gross spoilers ahead. Deal or leave.) So when hyrocortisone wasn’t doing anything other than taking the worst of the sting out, and when the rash kept getting worse, I went to the doctor’s office, who promptly sent me to the ER.

The ER quickly calmed me down and assured me I wasn’t spreading MRSA around half the city. They looked at the new red bumps, and the older ones that had morphed into buttons or bigger patches of blech. They couldn’t rule out an allergic reaction, and floated the possibility that if my rash started Saturday, just twelve hours after my stent came out, it’s possible that my body violently rejected the stent’s presence because that’s what I was allergic to: either a component of the stent itself, or something they washed it with prior to insertion.

The other possibility is that my shingles popped up again, what with all the stress I’ve been under lately.


I got some prednisone, an anti-viral to take (in case it’s shingles), and sent on my merry way. A lovely friend gave me a prescription cream to treat the worst of the itchies. A hair dryer set to ‘pretty dang hot’ is pretty good for that, too. (Science, for the win!) I’ll live. Without even losing my limb.

I mean, probably.

Yes, I’m going outside, turning and spitting and cursing. Spitting and cursing. All of the things!


What’s next?


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One Response to “If I didn’t have half the world’s produce in my fridge, I’d think it was scurvy.”

  1. Kathy Says:

    Good heavens! You just can’t catch a break. Hopefully this passes quickly with no more incidents. Hang in there. Enjoy your sister’s visit despite the crazy itchiness.

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