Scratch This

It's that time of year. The days are getting cooler, the leaves are changing and I am dealing with my annual bout of poison ivy. I really don't know why it happens, but for the past eight years or so this has been a recurring theme.  This time, the location of the rash, and how I got it there is baffling except for one glaring factor, my DNA.

Every summer my paternal grandmother, Dororthy, always got a case of the 'Ivy' but she was always asking for it. Trimming the hedges in front of her house in McKeesport became her mission after my grandfather passed away. She had an outfit which usually consisted of her trusty sweatband and possibly one of his old shirts. We would tell her not to do it because she was just inviting trouble, but she was determined and took her date with the hedges very seriously. It was her mission and she was up for the task no matter the risk.

I have not been doing any yard work recently. If you watch the beginning of an old episode of "The Munsters" you'll see what my house looks like these days. Apparently, amidst the overgrowth, lurks the poisonous plant and Eddie playing fetch with Spot.

The part of my body affected, my left side above my hip,  is always covered because I normally wear... a shirt. This year the summer got away from me before I could get "bikini ready" so yeah, a shirt is typically my M.O. Usually the rash appears on my arms or legs except for that one time, back when I was a kid when it was everywhere.

I was about 13 and there was a new medicine on the market that you were supposed to dilute before applying. One of my parents, I cannot reveal who since this is still a sensitive topic and someone made me promise never to repeat this story out loud,  thought if he/she applied it full strength to the affected area it would work better. Well, it didn't and things got way worse. I was miserable but so was this parent who was reminded of their mistake each time I scratched and I scratched . Lucky for my siblings, I'm the oldest so this error was not repeated.

I did do some weeding last month and I took every precaution to prevent any possible 'Ivy' contact. On a hot August day, I brought out jeans, knee high gardening boots, one of my husband's flannel shirts and gloves. Yes, I was a sight. My youngest said to me, "Mommy, you look hot." That was not supposed to be a compliment. Because of the outfit, I was successful in avoiding any rash, but would have had an excuse since I really gave to those hedges and rose bushes. Right, Grandma?

What I did last week to earn such colorful blotchyness, I cannot put my finger on - except for the DNA. A few days after my grandmother would attack her hedges she would sit in her un-air-conditioned house, in front of the fan, covered in calamine lotion, retelling the tale of how she fought the hedges and lost. I would shake my head in disbelief and say to myself, "that will never be me."

Flash forward 30 years and it is me. It has been 19 years since my grandma passed away and the older I get, the more I see her in me. I took a selfie a few months ago and when I looked at myself, I saw her face - minus her classic 50's updo that made her one of  Aqua Net's most valued customers.

The interesting timing of this year's poison ivy party, is that it falls between the anniversary of my grandmother's death (Sept.18) and the anniversary of her birth (Oct. 6). This  year for the first time since they were given to me, her wedding rings fit my finger. So with each itch I remember my grandmother, a spunky lady who loved her family above all things and whose legacy I am proud to carry on. She always said, "You'll get better before you get married." Maybe I'll get better before my anniversary.