Tom grew up in Milwaukee, bartended in Wauwatosa in the '70s and moved here in 1984.
Commentary, observations and musings about the outdoors, life in general and maybe Tosa politics and personalities will be the order of the day. He savors a lively debate as much as terrific cooking.
I recently recovered from a bad case of poison ivy.
I know what poison ivy looks like and I know where it lives. I avoid it like the plague.
Unfortunately, girlfriend doesn’t know this and she will gleefully tear thru a poison ivy patch with reckless disregard for the consequences.
Bottom line: I got it from the dog.
Anyway, a quick web search (replete with grisly and dreadful photographs) indicated that a possible course of treatment indicated the use of steroids. I located a bubble pack of Methylprednisolone (kept on-hand for bee stings) and started taking them. Wouldn’t you know it, the rash began to disappear. That is until the pills ran out.
At that point the rash erupted with a vengeance.
With few remaining options I decided to go to the walk-in clinic for a professional fix. The doc congratulated me on my attempt at self-medication but pointed out that the treatment of poison ivy required a stronger dose of steroids delivered topically in a salve.
Twice-daily applications of the greasy goo and the rash began to clear…just about the time I came down with a whopper of a cold.
Yep, you guessed it, courtesy of the throng of runny-nosed toddlers and their viral progeny in the clinic waiting room.