The Green Clay Update

I've received a few emails asking about the status of my bobo.  I'll post a photo below, so consider yourself forewarned.  It's not horrifying or sordid, but if you are squeamish, you can bail out at any time.  I'll forgive you for being a sissy.

How I actually managed to have an abrasion turn into a festering, seeping wound is unbelievable to me.  I did all the right things: I cleaned it, I protected it, and I used ointment.  I was convinced I had some sort of allergic reaction to the Betadine.   Seems lots of people are sensitive to iodine, and I should probably use the word "senstive to" as opposed to "allergic to", but at this point, it's like splitting hairs.  Things weren't getting better, they were getting worse.

And then, the other day, I looked carefully at the sore as I took off the Telfa pad and tape and something new dawned on me.  I think I'm allergic to (or sensitive to...) the latex in the Telfa pad and tape.  Where I had the tape, I now had tiny little blisters, itchy as all get-out.  The non-stick Telfa pad seemed to cause the same reaction around the wound, because I had a large red welt around the abrasion, and tiny little fluid filled blisters everywhere.  And it itched like a bitch, too.  (Sorry. Just had to get that rhyme out.)   I think that keeping everything moist and covered up proved to be the wrong thing to do, in my case.  Had I let it air and light at it, I would have been better off.

In the end, smothering my abrasion in green clay was the best decision I made.  Since things look a little less sordid now, here's how the abrasion looks when the green clay comes off.  Remember, it's been 23 days since the abrasion:

Believe me when I tell you that it's 100 times better than last week.  If you have the gumption to enlarge the photo, there's still some green clay left in the wound.  I didn't wash it out completely, since I just slapped another poultice on it minutes ago.  Consider my cleaning for illustrative purposes only - I didn't want to leave chunks of green clay on my skin, because you probably would have been really taken aback.

And now, just to make my month of June even better, I've managed to break out in hives.  The last time I had hives, it was an allergic reaction to Sulfa, maybe 20 years ago?  Since then, nada, not a thing.

Yesterday, I started itching myself for what seemed like no reason.  Then the tell-tale welts appeared.  Now, I've got sensitive skin and can write my name on my arm like I can on an Etch-a-Sketch, I'm that talented.  But hives?  You have got to be kidding me!  The hay was cut two days ago, and my hives appeared a day later.  The wind was blowing in our general direction, and I've never had allergies before, but I guess there is a first time for everything.  I've also had a month of the crappiest sleep thanks to our neighbour's new dog, but that's a post unto itself...so stay tuned for that saga.  It'll be worth it.

So I'm going to blame the hay plus sleep deprivation for my hives.  And it's going to give me the opportunity to drink this tomorrow morning:

Yup people, I've broken down.  I'm going in, so to speak.

Maybe I shouldn't have used lime Perrier?  It was all I had.  When I had a sip earlier, it tasted like a band-aid.  Not that I've ever eaten a band-aid, but it's the first thing that came to mind.   My mother-in-law does her annual 2-week green clay cure every spring and swears by it.  With my hives, I figure, there's no time like the present.

The instructions on the side of the extra-fine green clay (it's a finely-milled powder, unlike the coarser version I used to make my poultice) say to put one to two teaspoons in a glass, then add water and stir.  Let the mixture sit overnight, and chug-a-lug the next morning.  I am erring on the side of caution, so I just used one teaspoon.

So, with my hives swathed in castor oil, my green clay poultice on my leg, my green clay brew decanting in the kitchen, Little-Miss-Alternative-Health-2011 is off to get some sleep before the beast next door starts howling again.

Wish me luck is all I can muster.