What Fresh Hell is This?

Don't even try to speculate on what body part that is.... Suffice to say, I look like this EVERYWHERE this morning. My face, my neck, my scalp, my torso, my back, under my arms, my shoulders, my breasts. It's like I woke up dressed and ready to play the Elephant Man. And it itches ferociously. Luckily, my fingernails aren't long or sharp or I would have shredded skin now. Hot, hot, hot bath. Itches. Got Z-boy to apply Cala-Gel to my back and I put it everywhere else. At least I can think now. But it's ugly. So ugly.

And what the hell is it???? I know I'm allergic to fleas. I treated the cats two days ago. Everyone went out for the day except Misha, and I'm betting her fleas are all over the house now. Darling Man changed our sheets and vaccumed our room thoroughly, but Z-boy slept in my spot last night and I slept in Z-boy's room because I KNEW it would be a rough night. The party boys were winding up for a blowout.

I took something, so I didn't hear them much, but I kept waking up during the night anyway. Maybe I did hear them and didn't realize it. The three gunshots woke me up (Darling man says there were about 8). Hello, real estate agent?????

So I'm not sure. Fleas or stress. Take your pick - they both itch like hell.

**UPDATE**
I dragged Z-boy along and we went to sit in the doc-in-a-box for a couple of hours. All the while itching like crazy. I could feel my ears swelling and stiffening like Yoda's (I'm gonna have to go look - hopefully they won't be pointed or green) and the rash marching resolutely over the top of my scalp and down onto my forehead and eyelids. This was not fun. We both brought books and after half an hour, Z-boy looked up at me and asked how much longer. I never ask. They take you when they take you. I did call Darling Man to come pick him up after his shift at work ended at noon, so Z didn't have to sit there the whole time.

After they left, I sat there as people came and went, people who arrived before me, people who arrived after me. One baby was taken away to the hospital in an ambulance, who's mother I'd been chatting with. I began to suspect that I could have put a more dire spin on my problem when I filled out my forms and gotten in sooner, but I really didn't feel like a trip to the hospital was in my cards and it definitely was for some of those other people. So I waited.

They finally called me, and put me in a room. I took all the medications I was taking with me and after talking to the doctor and showing him the medications, my rash, and explaining how it came about, he thought it might be the big, nasty-tasting pill I've been complaining about. I only have two days left on the stuff, but he wanted me to stop taking it immediately. He didn't rule out the fleas either, stating that I really needed to get rid of them (duh!). But it's not life-threatening... just damned unpleasant. For my trouble I got to spend 2.5 hours away from home, $25.00, and got a nice shot of steriods in my ass to help stop the itch. And a recommendation to see my doctor in a couple of days. Thanks, Guys! It sounds snide, but really, thanks. I know I'm not going to die of itching, that I can stop taking the nasty pill, and the shot should help along with the advice to take Zantac and Benadryl.

I should make money doing this for a living. Put me in a tent and call me THE AMAZING -mazing-mazing SIDE EFFECT-ect-ect! Geriatric patients would flock to see me. Or laugh and say, "You call THAT a side effect? I'll show you side effect!"