In the spring of 2015, we had been living in the apartment
above our own for complicated reasons. One fine May morning, I realized I had
these super itchy hives. Bed bugs!? We bought mattress covers and moved my bed
downstairs. We washed all our clothes and searched diligently for the bed bugs,
which we never found. Neither could we find any explanation. The hives went away
abruptly.
For a month or so. Then they struck again. More washing,
more searching, more worrying. This time we added diatomaceous earth to our
arsenal. Nothing, nada, zip, zilch, zero. It was excruciating. We called in a
bug expert. He told us he couldn’t find any evidence of bed bugs ever having
been there. He also told us to go lighter on the diatomaceous earth. I slept
with an ice pack on them or the fan on just to get some sleep. Prednisone was the only other thing that helped with the painful itching.
After another long pause, they came back. I was at my wit’s
end. What is going on!? I took pictures and made an appointment with a skin
doctor. First words: those look like bed bug bites. (Me, internally:
AAAGGGHHH!) I had to convince him they weren’t. He gave me a cream to try and
it worked wonders. Still does. Although I am grateful to know they’re not bed
bugs, I was not happy with this new symptom. But who ever is happy with a new symptom?
Urticaria is the fancy word for hives, especially when the
cause is not apparent. I write this as a way of dealing with their reoccurrence. Only
three. I guess I’ll be living in my room (the one with air conditioning) for
the summer. This is the kind of thing that makes working so difficult. I had
them when I worked at The Night Ministry. It was so hard. Luckily, I only
worked one day a week. I am so very lucky to have a husband who wants to
support my writing project and a brain smart enough to get scholarships. So many have much
less.
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