The Rash That Won't Stop

 Written by Don Shetterly

At the slightest hint of anything, the rash picks up.  It changed from being constant to giving me moments of reprieve.  However, in exchange for this, it kicks up harder and with more fierceness than ever before.  The itching may subside after some moments, and if I’m lucky, the burning sensation doesn’t start in because it can last for a long time.  Most of the time lately, I’m not so lucky on that.

It doesn’t take much.  It can be fabric touching it.  It can be something touching me emotionally (good or bad).  It can be a conversation with someone.  It can be stepping outside in the warm summer weather or trying to wade in the pool.  It can be a phone call that I’m on or even listening in on these days.

When it picks up with intensity, I care barely sit still.  I struggle to keep my fingers from clawing at the rash.  Sometimes it won’t let me stop and sit down.  It keeps me pacing the floors screaming out in agony as if it won’t ever let me go.  Sometimes I find myself hitting and pounding my body just to numb it, as if I was doing what I once used to do as a kid.

My breathing gets shallow during these times.  Sleep is like something a million miles away.  My brain begins to run incessantly as if it must solve every issue known to man.  I find no relief – only distraction.  Most don’t understand.  In fact, it is almost too difficult to explain.  I feel ostracized by virtually everyone, but I want NO ONE to touch me or come close to me.

The images flood my mind of being held down while boiling water is poured upon me.  I know what they want me to allow them to do, but on that day, I’m fighting them.  I know I shouldn’t fight them for it will only get worse.  I just don’t want them to today.  I’m tired of enduring this.  I’m tired of them doing it to me.

Regardless, bad boys that don’t do as they are told suffer the consequences, and so the boiling water is poured on me as a punishment.  It seems boiling.  It could be hot water.  I can’t recall.  My body screams in pain.  My body shivers as the cold air of the winter in a drafty old house touches me.  I shiver and shake.  I tremble.  Just like in the days of the seizures.  I couldn’t control those either.  I would shake and tremble and flail around until exhaustion hit.  It went until I numbed and disconnected enough that I no longer was aware of what was happening.

But good little boys don’t have these images of their fathers and brothers.  Good little boys should never think about these things happening.  After all, God will torment and punish me forever for thinking this way and not obeying their every command.

My body wants some rest and relief.  It wants to numb at the same time because it is just too much at the time to deal with at this moment.  It is much too much even to want to deal with at this moment.  It seems like it has been an eternity that is has been happening when in reality, the rash only started last Christmas.

I try to tell my mind and my body that it will get better.  It laughs at me like a pack of hysterical hyenas.  It scoffs at me with ludicrous thoughts as if there is any way to get beyond this.  I try to have hope.  I try to have hope.  I know I’ve been in similar darkness before, but it is of little use because I feel too worn out and exhausted to care.

By the time anyone reads this blog post, I will have had some Unified Therapy sessions to hopefully help me get past this.  So, stay tuned for the follow-up blog posts.

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Blog Post And Images (c) 2017 by Don Shetterly

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