The last few weeks have been incredibly stressful. I’ve been crabby and out of sorts the whole time and I’m sure there are several underlying factors contributing to my bad mood, but the most obvious reason is my inability to manage time well. OR, it’s bedbugs.
At some point last week, I think maybe it was Thursday, I noticed a small rash or collection of mosquito bite-type bumps right underneath my belly button. This is mostly problematic due to the fact that I am a 21st century woman and usually wear pants throughout the day. These bumps, somewhat itchy, are right at the top of my jeans behind the clasp (these jeans are from GapKids). Well, I didn’t think much of it or at least wasn’t too bothered because I figured if it was bug bites they’d go away on their own eventually, or same resolution if it was just chaffing from running shorts. I dug out an expired tube of hydrocortisone cream, applied some of that, and went to sleep. Or work. Or riding. Whatever.
Sunday morning, the bumps hadn’t gone away. They didn’t spread, or get bigger, or more itchy. They were just there. The Lilac Century Ride started at 7:45am so I didn’t spend too much time dwelling on the bumps, but I DID notice the whole area had become a little sensitive to the touch. Not painful. Just sensitive.
Don’t worry. This isn’t a story about mine or anyone else’s lady business. I save that for Monday night church smallgroup.
The Lilac ride was excellent. It was excellent weather, and beautiful scenery… all until about mile 50. Well, even then it was still pretty out, but it had gotten a little windy and I didn’t bring enough to eat so my energy level completely dropped and I spent the next hour panicking about my health. Like, really. I thought I was going to die. After the ride I immediately went home and wrote in my journal about how much I love my family just in case this was the end. It’s a little bit dramatic but consider the source.
Even in the midst of my panic attack, the bumps persisted. They have been my constant friend these last few days, as well as paranoia. Beyond the bumps, or rash or whatever it was, the fact that everything was so sensitive really had me going. I thought for sure it must be ovarian cancer. Or cysts. Or whatever horrible thing everyone’s sister’s friend’s Aunt’s college roommate had that ended with her in the hospital and a bill up the yang.
Sunday night I texted my Mom in a panic asking her to come take me to the doctor. Yes, I am 27 years old (28 in two weeks) and I need my Mom to take me to the doctor. Monday afternoon she drove up from the Tri-Cities and we went to Urgent Care. In the time since I had first called Mom, my mind had gone off the deep end with MRSA right at the front. Reigning in anxiety isn’t a special skill set of mine.
In the Urgent Care waiting room, the nurse asked me general medical history, and then the doctor after her repeated many of the same questions. Do you smoke? No. Have you ever had surgery? No. Do you have any allergies? No. It’s really sort of depressing to go into a doctor’s office and admit to them you’ve never had or done anything in your life to warrant medical attention. My smallgroup would call this a first world problem complaint, “be thankful for your health, Rochelle!” Shut up. I am thankful for it. I’m just saying, my medical record doesn’t make for an interesting story.
After the non-interesting questioning session, the doctor had me show her my rash. It took her about one second to lean back and say, “Yeah, that’s bedbugs.”
The really disappointing part here is that the doctor had a southern accent, and she didn’t have the decency to call them “chew daddies,” “the Woodsman’s Companions,” or “Blue Ridge Quilt Ticklers.” She did prescribe me a couple of creams, an intense hydrocortisone (she didn’t find my expired Costco tube very impressive) and something else that starts with a P, then gave me a tetanus shot. Oh, and I can buy Benadryl if I want.
After a stop at the pharmacy, Mom and I went to dinner and discussed different ways of bug-bombing the house I live in and when to let my landlord know. Personally, I’m not convinced it’s bedbugs. I saw that episode of 30 Rock and Jack was itchy all over. This isn’t my situation. And the doctor did tell me that any swelling or sensitivity in the bathing suit area is just my lymph nodes doing their job in an allergic reaction. Great.
Monday night I slept in clean sheets (side note: I’ve been crashing on the couch for the last three weeks, no reason for this other than laziness). Tuesday morning, I got up to go for a run but sat at the desk massaging my sore arm (tetanus shot) checking email first when I received this little pretty –
Feeling good, my friends.