Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Sun Tan Therapy

The one consistent thing that I found in researching the relief from aquagenic pruritis or cholinergic urticaria is UV rays--tanning beds, sunshine.  I'm opposed to tanning beds.  I don't like the look of them of the places where they have them, if they still do.  Maybe in California it is illegal.  No telling.

However the naked place down at the edge of the desert is legal.  All kinds of ugly people just going about their business without garb.  That could work out just dandy.  I have no problem worrying about naked people I don't know viewing me in the buff.  I'll do whatever to alleviate this issue.  Besides, I like swimming uninhibited, and they have pools and more there.  And it is cheaper than professional UV sessions.  Worth considering.

They play water volleyball too.  We'll see.

I found that I can do a little swimming safely, as long as I have access to ultra hot shower afterwards. Last week I had to spend the entire week in Obamaland where I work.  There was a project to rework much of the AC, and the house manager asked if I could be there.  I had things I wanted to do there anyway, so I did it.  At the end of the day I tried the hot tub/spa to see what would happen.

All seemed OK mostly, as long as it was at about 104 or 105F degrees, and I stayed by the jets.  Then after a few minutes in the pool, I could tell the itching wanted to begin, although it was not overly insistent or urgent.  Too long and it would have come on strong.

So this is good.  I find that I can swim again, for awhile.  I still feel messed up in my gut, right at the base of the sternum.  And I have a sudden big belly, but I can sometimes swim.  The week was OK; not creepy like other times I've been there.  Or maybe the creepy aspects didn't bother me this time because I did not care if ghosts ate me or someone shot me.  Nothing happened so why worry.

They took some more blood for testing and I talk to Mr. Doctor on the 29th.  I'm thinking I'm sick of this whole thing and how it is affecting my life.  If he has nothing earth shattering to say, or even if he does, I may make radical changes.  If I wasn't so exhausted all the time, maybe I'd do things differently.

Then again, maybe the exhaustion is only mental anguish and loneliness manifesting itself from psychosomatic causes.  Fine with me.

I wonder if laying around in the high desert in the buff will win me friends and make life beautiful.  Probably not.  At least I still don't smoke, even though I often think it would be swell.

I used to always think, "This time I really am at the end of my rope".  Now I think the rope is long gone and if I'm lucky maybe I can touch the shadow of the long gone rope that I was once at the end of.  I'm leaving the preposition at the end.  There are times when it is clearer to do so.

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Ballistic Mountain, CA, United States
Like spring on a summer's day


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