The severe cold snap coming down from the north is hitting us today. Zero would be a balmy blessing, and tonight it's going to be well into the double-digits below. People are being warned to stay indoors and delay all nonessential travel.
The last time it was like this, I got chilblains. About '93 or so, maybe '92. It was -20 outside, with a wind chill of -40, and I had to stand around waiting for buses. I bundled myself up just fine in every way--
--except for my feet. I wore regular thin-soled shoes and regular socks. That was what you'd call a tiny little oversight on my part.
After a day or so, I began to notice that the toes on my right foot were throbbing. It was really odd. And quite painful. I took me to the doctor, and she was stumped too, but since a mini-epidemic had broken out due to the conditions, an impromptu consultation with a colleague brought about the diagnosis.
I had to elevate my foot and take a bunch of medicines plus ibuprofen. For a week. Not a fun time.
The 'blains are acting up today, I can tell you. It's much milder, but I can feel it. (Can't take a hot shower without some swelling either. It's a vascular constriction thing, so any time there's a strong change in temperature around my foot, the afflicted toes freak out.)
Seems like weather takes it out of us one way or another. Those who flee the snow have to deal with snakes, scorpions, tropical diseases and poisonous spiders, while those who flee the germs and critters rack up chilblains, broken bones from falls on the ice (Louisa, my husband), and horrific nights driving through blizzards. (I hope there's a god so I can kick his ass someday over the one I had to drive through this December.)
My mom, with her typical luck, managed to grow up in a place which had the worst of both worlds: monster winters AND poisonous snakes. Each bit her in its own way. Winter stabbed her nose with her own breath and made it bleed every day on her way to school, while summer saved up for one big wallop from a rattlesnake. Yes, my mom survived a poisonous snakebite--thanks to quick action on the part of my granddad, who was right there when it happened and immediately cut the bite open and started sucking out the venom. (It was not, as you might imagine, my mom's favorite day.)
I guess that says something about her. That she was bitten by both faces of the earth. And lived to tell.
