At least I don't have scurvy. I have all my teeth. It’s my leg that’s bothering me. It’s been itching for two weeks straight, twenty-four-seven.I have a full blown case of poison oaky. It’s now in a state of protruding red bumps and nerve endings screaming for a skin transplant. At times, it feels as if my leg hairs are bleeding, but come to find out, it's not blood. It's just yellow leakage from lesions that are apparently storing a large supply of poisonous sap.
You know what? It itches like hell. You're probably wondering how I contracted it. Let's just say I was doing some neighborly-community-service chores without a jumpsuit and was probably a little more adventuresome than I needed to be. It was New Year's Day. Evidently, I was rolling around in a ditch while my Linnton Portland neighbors removed one-hundred-year-old ivy from a one-hundred-year-old cement wall.
I don't know what to say other than poison oaky is some nasty shit. First of all, by the time you know something is up inside your skin, it's too late. You don't realize you're dying until after you've been unbeknowingly scratching yourself like crazy while watching TV or eating popcorn or whatever. It's sneaky as hell. I wouldn't trust it ever. I tell you what: it's crazy shit.
From what I gather, I just need to let the red pustules run their course and let this botanical disease continue to course through my veins until I arrange for a transfusion or until my leg turns black and falls off.
People close to me think I might have something more sinister which might require amputation. Personally, I was thinking about finding an ebola specialist. I don't know. I suppose I can wait until I start losing more muscle mass. Not sure, but I do know I'm a survivor and I plan to keep it that way.
