itchy

Home is where you can scratch where it itches.

In the very early hours of Sunday I woke up with the most excruciating pain on my neck.  I lay in agony, tossing and turning, huffing and puffing, whilst The Blokey slept soundly beside me.  Come morning, I gathered up my hair, presented my poor wee neck to him and insisted that he take a gander. 

You’ve got about six nasty looking scratches there, he informed me. 
Scratches?
Yep.
 

I have non-long, non-sharp, nails.  I have absolutely no idea how my nails were able to scratch my neck so badly – I must have been really going for it.  And how I didn’t wake myself up I have no idea.  It was painful for a couple of days.

In the early hours of this morning I got a poke in the ribs.

You’re doing it again.

Then I got another poke.

Stop it!

I was scratching my ankles, hard.  They were so friggin’ itchy!  I wondered if it was the central heating, because it’s reminiscent of something akin to prickly heat. 

But tonight my legs itch, from just above my knee down to my ankles.  And I have a vague numb sensation in my feet.  And other bits of me are starting to itch [my head, my fingers].  The central heating isn’t on.  Thus it can’t be the central heating.  I haven’t changed the washing powder, or my ‘beauty’ products.  The cat doesn’t have fleas. I don’t think The Blokey has been dusting my clothing with horrid itching powder. 

I’m really really sure that I don’t have any form of lice. 

Hmmm …

Now my eye itches.  And my hip. 

*sigh*

What diagnosis shall I give myself today?  And more to the the point, what nice goodies should I prescribe myself as treatment? 

Ack.

please God, stop me itching whilst I’m visiting Gym xxx Elsabeth

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