Oh dear God, IT ITCHES!!!

Posted: August 15, 2011 in Uncategorized
Tags: , , ,

I was told this cast would eventually itch.  The li’l bastard’s about a month old now, and oh my freaking God— I suddenly have an idea what plague Moses had in store for Pharaoh if the whole firstborn-murder thing didn’t work.  I’ve hidden from the sun.  I don’t exercise.  I avoid heat and humidity with more fervor than a baby seal avoids blunt instruments and sharks.  I figured this would help mitigate the inevitable “cast stench” that I’ve been warned about.  In turn, I figured it’d keep the itch at bay.  My tactics proved futile.

So now, in addition to scraping the crust from Zombie Jill, I’m being tortured by my own body in a way that’d impress the Spanish Inquisition.  I dealt with the pain, and I’m even coping with being largely useless (not really).  This is entirely different, a madness of a kind that makes watching Jersey Shore almost appear preferable.  I said almost—  I’m going crazy, but I will always have standards.

Let this right-handed lefty put it into perspective for those of you who, like I was for 30 years, don’t know this particular kind of torment.  Think of an itch not unlike a bitch of a mosquito bite.   Now think of an itch that, for some reason, you couldn’t scratch (for whatever reason).  Now combine those two, over the majority of your arm.  Any wonder why I’m stabbing into this cast with a chopstick like I was freaking Norman Bates?

Two solutions...

Here's my front line defenses. Aside from booze and medication.

I don’t have far to go to get to crazy.  In fact, I’m wondering if this insane itch is Jill turning full zombie– and when they open the cast on September 1, I’m going to get attacked by my first love.  We all know where that’s going, you’re all doomed, et cetera, ad nauseum.  Crazy, check.

However, I’m resourceful.  Booze and meds dull my awareness of the issue to a point.  The chopstick, well that application is obvious even to a five year old.  Not satisfied with conventional remedies– I got a can of dust-off.  Why?  Think about it, jam that straw in there, and blast in some instant relief.  For my fellow gimps out there who may try this– make sure the can stays perfectly upright.  Failure to do so will result in the can spitting “freezy spray” (yes, that’s a technical term), and now you will also have frostbite inside your cast.  Don’t be a dipshit, not only would that suck complete echidna peen, you’d also have to explain everything to the doctor.  You will then be the running laugh track for anyone who hears about your attack of the dumbass.  However, that “freezy spray” can be fired directly on the cast for short bursts, and the ridiculous cold actually penetrates with Peter North efficiency.  At this point, one of those stars and rainbows should be bursting over your head with the message “and now you know.”

And on that note, time to go scrape the zombie hand, take a shower, and pop some pills (not necessarily in that order).  Distraction is the biggest key to relief, but I’m betting this is a losing tactic too.



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