Quasimodo

Things have gone south.  The hives grew worse and covered my entire body.  They move about every hour.  My skin looks sunburned.  Giant welts form in one place and then another and itch like the devil.  They went to one foot, then the other, then the bottoms of my feet.  Lastly, they went to my face which is still hideously deformed.  My lips are tight and too big to move.  I have edema all over so that the skin is tight and doesn't want to bend.  The chills have gone but I still feel sick.

By day's end yesterday, I decided I needed medical help and drove to three clinics. One wasn't open on weekends.  One closed half an hour before I got there.  The other, which should have been open, had a sign on the door that said it was closed for three days.  I gave up.  I went to the grocery store to get some cans of soup.  I hadn't eaten in over twenty-four hours.  Walking in my flip-flops was agony, the straps pressing down on my swollen flesh.  I bought some antihistamines and pain relievers and went home to suffer through the night.  And it was a suffering.

I slept for ten hours and woke this morning with hope, but the view in the mirror told the tale.  There are fewer hives but the skin is bright red.  My face is shaped like a Shar Pei.  I will not go into work today.  If I don't feel better by noon, I will try the clinics again.

I think of movies where the monster is really just some sad and lonely creature suffering on its own without help.  Gollum.  Quasimodo.

I have no cell phone, no window in my car.  What the hell?