The One With the Rash Story

This weekend I had several fun ideas on how I would celebrate Mother’s Day. There was one idea in particular that made me so excited I thought my face would freeze due to excessive amounts of smiling. I had booked a massage appointment.

For me. Not for my husband (although he ended up with one as well). Not a gift for someone else. Me, me, me!

I couldn’t believe how cheap massages were in my hometown. Even though I live in a cottage that looks like it may crumble to the groud and be devoured by ants, I technically live in a fairly wealthy part of Kansas City, so massages are always pretty pricey. When I called for pricing in my hometown I almost fell out of my chair. And then I booked my appointment. A lovely hour massage. Oh, and as a special Mother’s Day treat, rose petals would be “incorporated” into the massage. “Incorporated” apparently means a last minute trip to the grocery store, buying a cheap bouquet of red roses, ripping the petals off and throwing them on the massage table. Mmmmm…relaxing.

Until the evening after the massage when I felt a bit, well, uncomfortable. Itchy. So I scratched. A few spots on my upper left arm, no big deal. Until I looked twenty minutes later and my entire upper arm was covered in hives. Well, that’s not good, is it? I figured I probably had a spring allergy attack or something, took some Benadryl and moved on with my life.

But then the next day the itchies were back. This time on my other arm. Strange, I thought. When I got back to KC, I decided to take a nice, warm shower and wash off whatever was making me so itchy. I figured maybe it was the massage lotion, as that was the only product that I’d use different from my normal routine. I’d just wash it off and take my tired butt to bed. In the shower I scratched my upper legs a bit, then felt the burning. Like my legs were on fire. I quickly turned off the shower and jumped out. I ran into the dining room stark naked and yelled for Trent. “Oh my god! My legs are burning! My back! My stomach!”

Trent walked into the room, took one look at me and his face dropped. My entire body was covered in hives. My legs were swollen up about an inch where I was scratching them, and the rest of me was red and bumpy as well. My skin felt like it was being burned off. Trent covered me in Benadryl cream and threw me out on the back porch into the cold air, while he shielded my naked butt from the neighbors. As the cool air hit my skin, I began to calm down. The burning subsided and I stopped panicking. Then Trent did what any good husband would do. Got me a giant glass of wine.

Turns out I had a reaction to the chemicals used to keep those lovely red roses looking fresh. Basically, I had an allergic reaction combined with a chemical burn. As long as I don’t touch my body when it itches or take showers, I feel fine. But I smell of Benadryl cream and two days of not showering. Happy Mother’s Day to me! Next year, I’m asking for a pony instead.