Scratching the itch

I am trying hard not to think about my feet.  I am trying extremely hard not to think about the skin on my feet.  I am really struggling not to think about the pink, lumpen, insect-bitten skin on my feet.  Clearly, it's not going too well.

That my fingers are engaged in typing this post is, at the moment, the only thing stopping them from feverishly scratching the inflamed skin on my feet.  I appear to have about eight to 10 bites on each and they are driving me mad.  The one on my left instep is engaging in quite a bit of attention-seeking behaviour at the moment.  The real tragedy here is that, although I know that I have a tube of hydrocortisone cream, it appears to have deserted me just when I need it most.  And before you ask, yes, I have checked in my handbag.

When I say that the itchiness is driving me mad, I mean that though I experience periods of lucidity when the delicate dance of sensation that plays across my lower extremities is merely intensely distracting, there are regular moments when the effect is almost mind-altering.  The idea of scratching my feet is actually mouth-watering and makes me clench and unclench my fists.  Imagining scratching makes my pulse quicken ever so slightly.

I was doing really well up until an hour ago but then I had a little "slip". I couldn't take it any more and ripped my shoes and socks off and had a full-on scratch-gasm.  It was great, but of course I felt horribly guilty afterwards (and had a strong desire to have a cigarette, even though I don't smoke).  I haven't been this distracted by itchiness since my leg was in a cast about a year ago.  Of course, scratching an itch is immensely satisfying at the time but the sensation is decidedly fleeting and then what do you do? 

Since then I've tried to distract myself with beauty, ugliness and Adam Rickitt but I'm seriously considering filling a chilly bin with ice and putting my trotters in it because thinking clearly is a wee bit challenging just now.  It's either that or amputation, but I have way too many pairs of shoes to seriously consider that as an option.

What's really noteworthy to me about this is the strength of the compulsion to scratch that overrides all reason.  I know that scratching at my bites will not make the bites heal any faster.  What it will do is make the skin around each bite swell and when it does start to heal, the skin will discolour and leave a scar.  So I know that scratching, like jeggings, falls into the category of A Bad Idea.  I've got several scars from last summer so I know how this plays out but that hasn't stopped me scratching today, nor will it, I suspect, in the future.

We like to think that our brains make our decisions for us, that the choices we make are based on rationality and reason but it takes surprisingly little to throw us off kilter and have us engaging in behaviour that's counterproductive or just plain stupid.  Maybe it's scoffing a chocolate bar when we're already full.  Maybe it's smoking a cigarette or looking at quasi-porn at work.  Whatever compulsion you've succumbed to, the common factor is that it's not your logical Spock-brain making the call, it's something else entirely.

What is it that makes us do these things?  Why do we do stuff that we know will make our situation worse?  Well, if I had a real answer to that one I doubt very much that I'd be considering wrapping my lower legs in pressure bandages right now.  But maybe some of you have more insight than I?  Failing that, I'll accept any suggestions on how to alleviate, or distract myself from, this infernal itching.

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