Notes from the Under-Mind
I came in contact with something Friday/Friday night, so by Saturday morning there was a ruddiness to my face, some mild swelling and the general look as if I'd gotten a bad wind burn. Some contact dermatitis, it remained restricted to my face, though in time it reached below the jaw line and over my left ear.
I'd been invited over to CryptLeak and Abbygal's place Saturday, and decided to go through with it as it was still fairly mild. I started to take Benadryls - though not enough to push me off to sleep - and proceeded to have a good time over there. We watched old cartoons and tv shows he'd found online and burned to disc, played a couple games of Guillotine - they let me win the first game - and had chips, cheese, pizza, etc.
Throughout it all, and much more in the time since, my body was going nuts as it upped its production of histamines.
I'm prone to eczema, and so whenever anything like this hits it tends to snowball. Aside from the obvious, topical symptoms, there's the sense of a deep, disquieting tremor through my body that refuses to be stilled. Concentrating on anything is difficult -- this is a murderer's mood. Inarticulate roaring is more likely than speech, and it's best for me to keep from interacting with anyone.
When this sets in I ultimately have to crank up the level of antihistamines and try to sleep through much of it. Oh, I got out to do some shopping Saturday, and did some work around the house today - including putting up some corner shelves and a couple minor repairs, but otherwise I've been drowsing through too much of this extended weekend. Unfortunately, that's something that's going to continue for at least a little while longer. Hopefully before the night's out I'll be feeling better.
Anyway, that's the story behind the latest silence.
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Comments
Get better nownownownow so you can come back and chop off more heads and watch even MORE really, really bad TV. And so I can get another good nap in.
Abbygal: It was still creeping up on me all day and through the next. I apologize if it was leaving me more monosyllabic than usual; the feeling's reminiscent of the inner monologue Stephen King gives Cujo as the dog feels itself succumbing to rabies. I'm aware of it, but can't help it much. Past a point, isolation's best.
The shows were a big part of the point of the day! We kept it to a fairly modest hour, though; I don't think it was all that much past midnight when I packed it in and headed for home.