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I'm glad you found my blog! I started Slammin Lammon because I love telling stories, writing and sharing everything on my mind! I hope you stay awhile and read a lot!

If It Itches, Don't Scratch It Slammy!

If It Itches, Don't Scratch It Slammy!

Wow! My heart is so full after sharing my last post! I was completely floored by all the love and support I received, and the many kind words that were left for me! However, for me, the best part was receiving emails from a few of you opening up to me about your struggles. That was the whole reason that I put my story out in the open, for others to know that they aren’t alone in their struggles. Many of you said that reading my post, or sharing your story with me, was a huge source of relief. I feel so honored that you chose to share your story with me and hope you all continue on the upward path you’ve been on!

But of course I can't always be inspiring, I have to be the idiot to give you good laughable content to read...

Several Sundays ago seemed like the perfect day. I got up in time to run over to Whisk for breakfast and coffee before I decided that I was going to spend the beautiful sunny day over on Belle Isle. Belle Isle here in Richmond, sits in the middle of the James river and has great views of the city and Hollywood Cemetery. It also has a lot of really cool history from the Civil War, and lots of places to relax by the water in the sun!

Remember my post about my 24 Hours of Catastrophic Hell? Remember how Sunday ended with my mirror shattering in to a gajillion pieces? That wasn’t the start to my bad luck, I just didn’t know it yet…

When I pulled up to the parking lot at Belle Isle, I knew that this had to be the perfect day, even though the tiny parking lot was crowded, I managed to secure a parking spot, which is nothing short of a miracle. I parked and walked across the bridge that goes over the River, well I kinda skipped. 

I’m a strange cookie, I love being around people, meeting new people, spending time with all the amazing people I know in Richmond, but I love alone time. I’ve once heard it as being described as an extroverted introvert. For me, if I don’t get a certain amount of alone time, I don’t feel like I can truly relax. This is why I will always want to go home, no matter how late or crazy the night has been. Don’t take it personally, it’s not that I don’t like you, I just like me more.

I’ve always enjoyed Sunday’s off, even if I spend time with my friends, I love quiet moments where I can explore and do things on my own schedule. Of course, during these times I get super reflective and usually very grateful that I am able to have a day off to walk around outside.

This is why I was practically skipping across the bridge, just a complete dork, happy to be alive and fueled by Whisk.

Today though, I thought I might try a new spot on the rocks to sit on, a different view to soak up all the views of this beautiful city before I move in 19 days!!!

Pretty nice, huh?

Pretty nice, huh?

As I was climbing down the edge of the dirt on to the rocks, I slipped and fell and kinda slid down the little hill. I fall all the time, so this was really no big deal. If I’m not the klutziest person you know, then I’d love to meet who you think is klutzier, after they get out of the hospital of course. 

Unfortunately, when I fell this time, I had mud on my legs in very unfortunate places. Because I decided that I was going to walk to my old favorite part of the isle, I didn’t want to go walking around people looking like I had pooped myself. As I was walking down the trail, I grabbed some leaves and wiped my legs off with them.

Don’t ask me what these leaves looked like because I don’t remember, they were green and that’s about all I know!

I still had mud on my legs though, so I power walked across another mini bridge, down a ladder, across some rocks and to a little secluded hole in the rocks where I could jump in and let the river cleanse me of all mud. 

I was very careful getting in the water, because a few weekends ago I was in the same spot, leaning over, and my most prized water bottle with all these important stickers, slid out of my backpack and down the river, never to return again. 

I was more disappointed that I lost all these great stickers that will be hard to replace, if I ever can!

The river bath worked wonders, so after I was cleansed of all the mud, I hopped over some more rocks and found a nice place to set out my towel and enjoy a few hours in the sun. 

Sunday ended with a crash, Monday started with a bang but finished pretty averagely. 

Tuesday morning I woke up to an itchy leg. When I woke up, I was scratching my left leg and didn’t think much of it. My body was still in shreds from the CATastrophe the day before, and I just thought that it was some cat scratches or an allergic reaction to my cats or something I encountered at the vet. I still am a bit allergic to cats, which is a major unfortunate thing.

The area also kinda resembled a bug bite, and it was only on one leg, so I wasn’t concerned.

The week went on and my legs slowly got more and more itchy. The marks started to spread and more developed on the parallel area on the other thigh. You know that spot, right where your thighs touch? Like touch every time you walk, or close fifth in ballet, or cross your legs for ANY OTHER REASON?!

Then it traveled over to my arm, and on to my left calf.

By the next Sunday, I realized this was something serious. I decided that I probably needed to do something, considering it was constantly itching and was oozing through my tights during ballet.

Attractive.

Monday came around, and I drifted into a world of sheer agony. I got halfway through ballet class before I was pulling my tights off the wounds to stop them from irritating it.

My fellow dancers kept giving me weird looks because it looked like I was doing some sort of perverted monkey-like potty dance.

I had to run to the restroom in the middle of class to put something on my legs because the itching was so bad. The rest of the day, I cycled through shorts, bandages, and tights with bandages, but I was still in so much pain. 

Because I had focused so much on the pain in my legs, I wasn’t using my muscles correctly during class, and my tendonitis flared up. It always does on Mondays, but that day it was especially bad and I had lost a lot of range of motion in my foot.

The best way I can think of how to describe how I felt, is to tell you to imagine a circus animal. They are most likely in some sort of pain because of being treated cruelly, and probably have some kind of wound that has been neglected to be cared for. Their alternate performing animal is at another rehearsal, so they have to do all the runs and are getting yelled at to be more ferocious/coordinated/fuzzy/cute/other adjective of your choosing. They are most likely blinded by pain and completely irrational, and even though they know that getting whipped to perform is their job, they have a terrible attitude and might lash out at someone.

This is a pretty realistic description, I was not rational and pretty animalistically angry.

Soooooooo, after my day was over, I thought it might be a good idea to pop into the E.R. and get it looked at.

First off, no one "pops" into an E.R., unless you die shortly after you're admited. This was not a short and sweet trip.

The picture is a bit bad quality, but you can see that the wait time is 350 minutes....

The picture is a bit bad quality, but you can see that the wait time is 350 minutes....

The E.R. was a pleasant place as always, the man next to me trying to take a shower in the sink, someone having to pee with the door open so that the nurse could make sure nothing bad happened, a man coming out to apologize to the police officer on duty that he was sorry he gave him a hard time, the usual…

After a long wait I was prescribed a prescription strength Benadryl and a steroid and sent on my way, but because it was so late, I couldn’t get the drugs yet.

The next night was the worse I’d had so far, I kept waking up scratching myself, no matter what I had on or put on the rash. wWhen I got up and went to the pharmacy, they said my medication wouldn’t be ready for a few hours and I almost burst into tears. Just walking around the pharmacy was rough and emotional, if I didn't walk like I had a load in my pants then I'd start tearing up.

There was also difficulty choosing the wardrobe. With shorts, the wounds were open and able to be aired out, but if they rubbed together, it was the end of dry eyes and composure. Pants, on the other hand, protected my legs, but the fabric was constantly lightly brushing over the sores and making everything itchy. I was leaning towards wearing shorts because I hoped the fresh air would help them dry out, but now I looked a mess, considering everyone could see the calamine splotches on my legs.

I'm going to take a moment to praise and question calamine lotion. Yes, it is a marvelous thing that will stop any itch, and also make your pointe shoes a universal color, perfect for stage. But calamine should not be called lotion. All the bottles I own are like water! It's like Jesus decided to heal people's bug bites instead of souls, so he turned water into calamine and not wine! There is no easy way to apply calamine, and now my bathroom looks like I murdered cotton candy. Not to mention that my legs resemble a pink version of the sky in van Gogh's The Starry Night.

Finally my prescription was ready and I went home to take it.

You may or may not know, but I don’t nap. I have a hard time falling asleep at night anyways and can practically count on one hand the amount of naps I’ve taken in my life. But this Benadryl did a number on me!

When I’ve taken Benadryl in the past, it’s made me slightly drowsy, but no serious effects. This time, it not only made me a wee bit loopy, but it completely knocked me out, in the middle of the day. No ballet for me then!

I took a nap for several hours and woke up feeling just as groggy, but not quite as itchy!

The rest of the week, I have been enjoying being in insane itchy pain. Having an itch you can’t scratch, whether in a sexual or rash way, is pretty rough. I’ve felt so irritable the whole week, and have had a hard time sitting down and writing because all I want to do is scrape my inner thighs off!

Also, because I'm Slammin Lammon, I got EXTRA lucky! Somehow the tights had spread the oils from the poisonous plant and now I'm itchy where the sun don't shine, if you catch my drift. I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy!

There was a bit of an oopsy. When Chef Doria relayed some instructions to me on how to clean the wounds with baking soda and a vinegar rinse, she forgot to mention the rinse part. I wondered why leaving baking soda on overnight was doing nothing. I guess because the word BAKING was involved with Chef Doria…

My sores are looking a lot better and are starting to heal, but if you have any recommendations on things to do for poison ivy/oak/sumac PLEASE let me know!

When doing research for methods to heal the sores, I came across an article that warned readers not to eat poison ivy as a cure, because it could be potentially fatal. 

WTF?! If you are eating poison ivy, I think you should be taken out of the gene pool!

Until I’m completely healed (not via consumption of suspicious leaves), if you have any grievances with my actions, please take it up with the trees on Belle Isle, I am as responsible for my actions as a Circus Bear in a tutu! 

Slammin Lammon in the City

Slammin Lammon in the City

Slammin Lammon Ages 20 Years After 24 Hours of CATastrophic Hell

Slammin Lammon Ages 20 Years After 24 Hours of CATastrophic Hell