Disappointment & Shame, With a Hilarious Silver Lining

So I woke up last Tuesday, October 2nd and it was my sisters birthday, but that doesn't come into this story much (I called her at 8:30am, was the last in the family to do so, and sort of felt like a dick but I got over it). So that morning at was looking in the mirror and I noticed a small mark on my face that surely was not there the night before. I didn't think much of it and continued on my way. Over the next couple of days the mark grew in size and and spread a little. I began to think what it could be. Now I don't smoke cigarettes and never will (I did have a cigar at a bachelor party recently and it was fun and will probably do it again, but that's the line) but I have been known, on occasion to smoke something else. Go ahead, judge all you want, but I did cover this topic in an earlier post and describe the brief but very noticeable 'benefits' that this plant has on me. Anyhow, I was certain that by passing a joint around I had gotten my first cold sore aka herpes simplex. Right then I looked up pictures of it and sure enough they matched. When I picked up some Abreva at the drug store the tech on duty told me that it looked like herpes. I felt like a leper, doomed to walk the earth with this shit on my face forever, although not all at the same time, just whenever it broke out again. According to my dad, who like many people has it, I would be getting an outbreak about three times a year at most and maybe even far less often. I still felt bad, real bad. I was going through the 'seven stages of grief'  and got stuck on number four for a couple of days. I just couldn't stop feeling bad for myself and you already know how lonely I am to begin with. 

 I kept looking ahead in my mind about how to tell a girl and when (providing I meet one soon) about how every so often I would be getting mouth sores and then I would imagine her reaction. Either way you look at it can't be good because if she has it as well, I would have to be ultra cautious about not wanting it on my private areas or the other option; she runs away so fast that all you see are ass and elbows flailing. I don't think anyone would understand, I think for me that would be a deal breaker because things don't always work out and it seems like people are getting divorces just for fun these days. Armed with the better cream I got from dad, I prepared to embark on my new life of dodging glances (and to think I was just getting comfortable around people). The cream seemed to be good and dried out the area well, unlike Carmex which, according to the late Mitch Hedberg, was "cold sore hi-lighter". Friday evening came along and I was looking at my FaceBook news feed when a post from Deb Marree came up. You know those people who post political crap on their walls and make sure everyone knows their opinion? Well that is what Deb does,  with food and how it should be natural, but her posts are actually beneficial (like for instance you should only buy organic strawberries because all the non-organic ones have so much crap put into them it isn't worthwhile to eat at that point) to people who take the time to read them. I love food, a lot, so I read mostly all of them. Now Deb is a woman who contacted me from down under, literally she lives in Australia to help her son out with some autism related questions, which I was happy to answer. So I was reading a post that showed a rash on someones arm and her caption for the shared photo was 'I wasn't surprised to see "Autism" on this post !' didn't read the post but in the comments section, and by some miracle of God this was the first one so I didn't need to scroll down or open 'see all comments' to see it was the following "Ryan, it's not the actual mango you are allergic to, it's the skin. The peel contains urushiol, like poison ivy. Use gloves. (so I've heard) Don't believe everything i tell you!..lol" Three guesses to who ate fresh mango on Monday. Not only did I eat fresh mango but after taking it out of the fridge, you age them like a pear in a brown paper bag at room temperature and then put them in the fridge so they don't spoil. So the fruit was a little stiff around the core and I decided it was too hard to cut off with the knife so I just stuck my face in full force like a fat kid eating a chocolate bar. I rubbed my lips up against the skin and tried to get every last bit of fruit left. Now I had no idea that mangoes had urushiol, the same oil that causes the poison ivy rash in the skin and 5 mm into the fruit. This was the biggest relief I a have ever had in my life! Now I'm not going to say it doesn't itch like a mother and I haven't had poison ivy for around six years as I tend to freak out when I see three pointed green leaves mixed with red ( I even thought maple tree sprouts were poison ivy plants once upon a time). So I had a rash I knew a lot more about than the herpes I was sure I had. I simply washed my blankets, pillow covers, sheets, towels and clothes and yoga mat/towel because we do one posture in Bikram where you put your mouth on the towel, and I had eaten the mango the last day I did yoga. 

So there you have it. I was freaking out about having herpes when it was a case of mango-induced poison ivy rash. Everyone I told this story nearly died laughing when I told them that part and I can easily see why.  

As for me I have sworn of eating fresh mango for good, or at least letting it touch my lips and hands and I will certainly not be cutting up any myself. It should also be known that today my mom was relating the story around the office and a coworker was amazed to find out that her daughter, who had been to the doctor many times and even he was baffled by the sores she had in her mouth and on her lips, had her regular fresh mango eating habit to blame for it. My mom said the daughter 'lived off mangoes', according to the coworker. I guess she has to get off that wagon for good too. I think I’ll just settle for the lightly dried and bagged mango pieces I had while at Worcester Academy back in 2005, as they never gave me a bit of trouble. 

Questions or Comments? I’ll gladly pay for your stitches if you split your side with laughter.