Itches, aches and pains

Itches, aches and pains

By LEON YOUNGBLOOD

“I hate summer here,” my friend Clem Clemmons said.  “I thought I’d pay you a visit before it got too hot.  It’s not even 8:30, and the temperature is already on its way to being intolerable!”

We were at my wilderness shack at Briar Circle, and I had to agree, it can be a miserable place in summer.  Clem was not referring specifically to Briar Circle, though; his dislike also covered not only all of LeFlore County, but all of Oklahoma, and all of anyplace else sizzling with the current relentless heatwave.  “How do you stand it?” he asked.

BRIAR CIRCLE

“I stay hydrated, I sit in front of the fan, I don’t do any strenuous work—and I usually go to town for lunch when it gets too hot to stand it here.  I’ve taken three hours to eat lunch, sometimes.”

Clem saw the wisdom of this.  “You take the standard precautions, I assume?  I’d hate to come here and find you dead from heat stroke.  You know the symptoms, don’t you?”

“Yes.  I’ve experienced heat exhaustion, so I’m more careful than I used to be.”

Clem was merely expressing his concerns.  I’ve known Clem since he was a boy.  The fact that I am older and now have certain restrictions provoked his mild inquisition, and I appreciated that.  It’s certain that heat-related injuries—and deaths—are serious hazards of the sort of weather we’ve been suffering through.  Clem and I discussed these briefly, in an ambling sort of way, and determined that there are tons of itches, aches, and pains that, while not necessarily life-threatening, are inevitable, standard hazards of the season.

“Ticks, chiggers and fleas,” Clem offered as an example.  “They’re eating my pets alive!  But they’re country dogs and cats with 40 acres of land to roam on.  I can’t keep up with ‘em!”

“And as likely as not, we may have picked up a few ticks just from being outside,” I said.

Clem agreed, and added, “And what about the fungus among us?  This humidity, and sweating and all make our bodies a hotbed of jock itch, athletes’ foot, and skin rashes.  There ought to be a law against that.”

“And the snakes, and bears, and scorpions—man, you can’t turn around for ‘em!”

“Really? Have you seen any snakes, bears or scorpions?”

“Well, no, I haven’t.  But here, let’s look under some of these rocks.”

Whatever else you can say about the Quachitas, they are blessed with rocks, Clem and I stepped a few yards away from the shack, overturned a large, flat rock, and sure enough, there were several little brown scorpions under it.  Under another rock was a momma scorpion carrying her babies on her back, something we had never seen before.  Be warned!  Scorpions will go into sink and shower drains, and get upset if you run water down them.  I learned this from painful experience while showering at the Cedar Lake campground off Holson Valley road.  I told Clem my scorpion story; he listened politely, even though he had heard it 50 times before.

Clem noticed that in spite of the heat, the poison ivy was flourishing.  He even suggested changing the homestead’s name from Briar Circle to Urushiol Way.  Just let it be said, toxic plants are year-round hazards, but we noted that they are there.  And sunburn.  Serious sunburn.  I’ve done that before, too.  It’s painful enough when you suffer the short-term consequences of too much sun.  However, skin cancer can be a long term consequence.

Having considered the minor discomforts—the itches, aches and pains—of summer, Clem and I figured the best thing would be to do away with the season all together.  That, of course, won’t work.  Our advice is, make the most of it, and do the best you can.

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