Could It Be??

I awoke Monday morning with hives all over my upper torso, my chest, but especially plaguing my neck. The splotchiest, itchiest, cherry rash on my neck. I spent all day trying to eliminate it.

I evaluated a constant mental checklist of what I might have changed to cause this allergic reaction. My constant self barrage proved futile. There was nothing I had done or used differently. I went to bed hoping it would go away by the time I awoke.

Tuesday morning I woke up with the same splotchy, itchy, cherry rash on my neck. This time the cherry was even cherrier and the itchy was even itchier. Visibly obvious, this inflammation was taking center stage in my every personal interaction with anyone.

“Have you used this salve?” “Have you tried that balm?” Ironically, I work at a skin care company and the suggestions poured in steadily. I finally conceded to my boss’s proposal of immediately taking Benadryl.

I was hesitant knowing it was about 2 pm in the middle of a work day and I would get drowsy. Additionally, I knew my work day went from 8 in the morning to at least midnight.

The medicine did nothing to alleviate the rash or the itch. It did, however, administer its lethargic effects upon my being.

There I was, miserable at 5 pm on a snowy Tuesday early evening, head on my desk, and inbox still with 50 emails needing to be reviewed by midnight for end of month.

I walked over to Benefits to submit my final cafeteria plan form for 2008. I had waited until the final day to do so. Upon entrance, my neck became the source of conversation.

“Yeah yeah,” I garbled entirely unamused. I head nodded in agreement while paying little attention to the exchange.

Lost in angst, I blanked until I realized I was being asked a question. My face immediately communicated my disoriented state so she repeated yet again, “are you stressed?”

Allow me a few words to answer this question. Yes. Immensely. Always… yet in an oxymoronically nonchalant way.

While sparing everyone the hum drum, daily living, social history of my stressors, know that Harry and Nancy each gifted to their children an inherent disposition to worry, fret, agonize, and lose sleep over the natural anxieties of life.

While trying to make an insurance claim before deadline, in the middle of our month end chaos, feeling the pressure of occupation, the fog of drugs, and sprinkling in some matters of the heart or heartache, I identified some of my stress.

So when the medication did absolutely nothing for me, I was even more flabbergasted to learn what I had been experiencing with this outbreak had less to do with a physiological reaction and more to do with a psychosomatic manifestation.

As a product of my family, this was unfeasible. We don’t get sick. We sure don’t get sick from our minds. I had spent two days trying to rid myself of the ailment which had been the source of uncanny constant discomfort.

Then this morning, I woke up. As abruptly as it appeared did it suddenly disappear. I was left with a souvenir of dry flakey in skin in an area I had spent trying not to scratch the past couple of days.

Hmmm…