Humor: Readers come to the aid of an itchy man

By SCOTT HOLLIFIELD
Media General News Service
Published: July 31, 2008

Today, nearly itch free, I must thank the dozens of readers who stumbled upon last week’s column about being, as we say in my neck of the woods, “eat up” with poison ivy and offered their sympathies, remedies and horror stories of gigantic, oozing sores that I will never be able to remove from my brain no matter how many times I jab myself in the ear with the sharp end of a No. 2 pencil.
I thought I had it bad, but some of you at one time or another have transformed into one huge, hideous blister, shunned by family and friends and forced to live in outbuildings so no one could hear your agonizing cries and see your incessant scratching.
I feel your pain.
I tried many of the remedies and suggestions, except for the one that I believe is anatomically impossible from the guy who is tired of reading such “stupid &$%&! in the newspaper when there are real problems in the world.”
Sir, you have obviously never been eat up with poison ivy.
Barbara, a teacher from Hickory, N.C., has. And she found relief in a common household item (no, she did not repeatedly smash herself in the skull with an iron to take her mind off the agony).
“I have a wonderful way to stop the itch and shorten the duration of the rash - the hair dryer,” she wrote in an e-mail. “Believe me, it works.”
She then offered detailed instructions.
“Hold the hair dryer as close to the rash as you can stand...turn it on first.”
Barbara knows her audience. I would have stood there with the hair dryer off wondering why I was still itching.
“Keep holding on the spot until (the itching) quits. Then move to another area.”
That presented a slight problem. I knew I would have a hard time explaining the situation to my wife if she walked into the bedroom and found me with my pants around my ankles pointing a hair dryer at the back of my thighs.
“Uh...Barbara told me to.”
Becky in Tennessee swears by lye soap, just like the kind Granny made out by the cee-ment pond, but I figured if we cooked it up here in town Mrs. Drysdale would get all mad again and Uncle Jed might not let me and Jethro be double-naught spies. (And, yes, I watch a lot of “The Beverly Hillbillies.") Becky said use quality lye soap, which I assume comes only from the best of renderings.
Other readers suggested rubbing alcohol, hot water, evening primrose oil, jewel weed, drug store potions (Tecnu got many mentions) and, when the going gets really bad, a steroid from the doctor’s office.
In that area, said a fellow urushiol sufferer, I should proceed with caution.
“Just remember, ‘roid rage’ is real,” wrote Nancy. “As my husband explained, steroids magnify all emotions. My experience confirmed that.”
To be honest, if I have to go the route of powerful prescription medications, I’ll just skip the doctor, buy bootleg steroids from a shady trainer, clear up the poison ivy, put on 100 pounds of muscle, begin a mid-life professional baseball career, hit 87 homeruns in one season and develop a forehead large enough to show a drive-in movie on.
Then, poison ivy would be scared of me.
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Write Scott’s Column Contest While He Is On Vacation Update: All of the entries are in and can be viewed here. Next week, I will hand out individual honors for some of the best writing. The winning column will appear in this spot the following week. Scott Hollifield is editor/general manager of The McDowell News in Marion, N.C. Contact him at P.O. Box 610, Marion, N.C. 28752 or e-mail him.