My Fear of Popsicles

The past couple weeks have been very busy in my household. I wish I could tell you that we were doing something amazing like going to work or eating a full meal, but instead my family and I have been fighting a stomach bug. Please don't be concerned; I won't be sharing these details with you.

Instead I will tell you that on top of this year's flu, I was the grand prize winner of a bonus medical issue. I have developed an allergy to the cold weather. My mind and body have given up their fight against shoveling snow.  College in upstate New York and post-graduate life in Boston have finally taken their toll.  The winters aren't that bad, but apparently I belong somewhere warmer.

My skin, as messenger for the brain, has sent me a clear message: We're done. Instead of leaving me a nice little post-it note on the fridge, Skin chose another medium.  Hives.

When these itchy red bumps appeared all over my body early last week, I took 10 minutes online to become a dermatologist. With my honorary Google degree, I quickly self-diagnosed myself as having "cold hives".  

Cold hives are actually a very serious condition that are often the symptom of a more serious disease or develop on their own without known causes.  Therefore, I am not here to make humor out of a very uncomfortable and sometimes embarrassing skin condition.  I have no intentions to offend anyone or receive hate mail.  In fact, if this were true I would need to stop writing this and instead write myself a really mean nasty email because I'm wicked uncomfortable.  In fact, I have also decided that the cold hives are the beginning of the end so how DARE I WRITE THIS BLOG POST?!?!?!?! Ok, so I digress.

The hives are induced by cold temperatures.  Walking outside in cold weather has resulted in a major breakout. My morning meeting at work was a new experience. Bare feet on my cold kitchen floor became very uncomfortable as I got ready for work. Washing dishes with luke warm water. Hives. Looking for dinner in the freezer. Just not worth it. And I got hives.  

However I share this story because in keeping with the theme of this blog, humor still presented itself to me when I was experiencing the most frustration and discomfort. While chatting with my wife one cold night about the day's events, I started to tease my wife about something unrelated. To get a laugh from her when one didn't come forth fast enough, I moved as if to tickle her.

Faster than you could say Woogie she yelled, "Don't do that or I'll open the front door!" This stopped my dead in my tracks and the teasing stopped immediately. 

As part of my self-diagnosis, I did what my online medical training prepared me for. I performed an ice cube test, which involves self-torture to prove a point already well made.  I'm looking forward to a doctor's visit later this week so that I can actually make the point to a fellow medical professional.  I probably should have taken a picture of the first test results, but I wasn't really thinking clearly while itching the hell out of an ice-cube size welt on my arm.

I have been able to manage the hives.  This requires wearing a hat and gloves outdoors more often, socks on the kitchen floor, and an extra layer at all times.  But, I'm occasionally caught off guard.  For example, this morning droplets of cold water must have rolled down each arm while shaving, resulting in matching streaks-of-fiery-itch. Later in the morning, I grabbed a carton of cold milk from the fridge. What was I thinking?!?

Until I learn more about these cold hives and their cause, please be nice to me and send me warm thoughts.  But if you really want to get my attention, attack me with a popsicle.