Hey, I know this might not be the right place but I’m posting this to anywhere I can. Any advice is appreciated.
Last Tuesday, I did not wake up to the sound of my alarm at the reasonable hour of 8 AM. Instead, I found myself awake at five in the goddamn morning to the strangest sensation I’d felt in my life- an itch, coming from inside my body. I wasn’t even sure that it was possible, to be completely honest. Never experienced it before. Not wanting to wake my sleeping wife- she worked overtime last night- I rolled out of bed and quietly made my way down the hall to the bathroom, furiously scratching at my shoulder where the itch felt like it was coming from.
As my nails traced their way across my skin it didn’t alleviate any of the sensations; If anything, the itch felt like it was moving deeper towards my core. Still desperately scratching with my right hand, I rooted around in the medicine cabinet for some Alocane left over from the summer. We’d gone to San Fransisco and I’d deeply underestimated just how sunny it would be, coming back from our day trip to the Monterey Bay Aquarium red as a beet. My wife and I laughed about it for a while until the burn started truly hurting, at which point I got my ass to an urgent care as soon as possible.
Hell’s Itch, the doctor had called it. If I knew then what I’d be experiencing now, I would have laughed in her face.
She suggested both peppermint oil and a topical aloe gel, that green shit that smells truly rancid and sticks to your fingers as you apply it- and it worked. Within one night the stuff had cleared some of the redness and had numbed the itch completely, and I thanked every god I could think of before promising my wife that I’d go to a corner store and buy some high SPF sunscreen before heading out onto the beach. I knew that we’d brought the rest of the tube home with us, and I managed to find it somewhat quickly.
I lathered that stuff all over my shoulder. The itch never went away completely, but it became somewhat more manageable as the lidocaine in the gel worked its magic. By the time Sara had gotten up I’d gotten dressed for the day and made us breakfast. Sara didn’t even notice when my left shoulder recoiled a little as we kissed on the doorstep before going our separate ways to work.
I work at a tech firm in the city, nothing too strenuous, so the area wasn’t at risk of being irritated when I dragged myself into the office. The only time the itch had really come back was my trips between the building and my car, the cool autumn air feeling that much worse on the affected area. The sensation, though dulled by the topical ointment, had spread up through my skin and down my arm. I, in my woken-up-too-early stupor, hadn’t expected that the damn itch would move. I guess my colleagues noticed me scratching at my wrist under the desk during a progress meeting.
“Rachel, are you alright? You’re looking a bit pale.”
Gregg, the office coordinator, was staring at me as though my arm had fallen off. I’d still been vigorously itching the sensitive skin where I felt the pin-and-needle sensation come up through the muscle, and I sheepishly excused myself to the bathroom. At least I’d remembered to put the ointment in my purse before I left… Once I’d gotten my sweater’s sleeve rolled up far enough to assess whether or not something was actually wrong with me, I couldn’t look away.
Thin little cracks were working their way down my arm from my shoulder. Locking the door of the bathroom so no one would barge in, I took my top off and hastily threw it onto the sink’s counter, staring at myself in the mirror. These… cracks… were radiating from my shoulder, right where the source of the sensation had started this morning. In either direction I could see them run across my skin, from the hem of my bra to about my wrist. I looked like a goddamn salt flat. I’ve never been very good at avoiding the urge to pick at a scab, and my fingers found their way down to one of the smaller segments of skin. I found that I could lift the skin quite easily, as though it were a scute on a turtle… All I could see underneath was red, raw flesh. I left it alone from there, put my sweater back on, and called out for the rest of the day.
I haven’t been to work in a week. During the week I went to an urgent care center, and they cautiously perscribed me some antibiotics for what they assume is a shingles infection. I’m 27, and had chickenpox as a child. This isn’t fucking shingles.
That was on wednesday night. I’ve been practically living in the guest room since then. I don’t want Sara to contract whatever this is, and I don’t want her to see me like this. I’ve covered myself in bandages to keep whatever’s going on under those cracks from oozing on the floor. The last time I changed them, I nearly threw up as I caught a glimpse of what looked like little red worms crawling under there, between the cracks… Have you ever heard of tubifex worms? Kind of like that. And the itch… The goddamn itch. It’s spread to nearly every inch of my body by now, and it’s only gotten more painful. I can’t stop scratching, either, and that only makes the crawling under my dessicated skin all the more painful despite the fleeting relief.
Has anyone seen this before, and does anyone know what to do?