The fear of itching is called Acarophobia, and I think I developed it yesterday. I could not stop scratching my right hand. No matter how hard I did it, it kept on itching. I scratched it so hard that it started bleeding. It now looks like I’ve been attacked by a mountain lion (or a cheetah).
At first I didn’t think much of it. You get an itch, you scratch it. It happens to everyone nearly every day. But when it would not stop itching, I thought back to an episode of House in which itching was a symptom of something else. I can’t remember exactly what was wrong with the guy, but if it was on House it wasn’t good.
I started thinking I was probably going to die within the next few hours. The itching was probably related to a blood-borne pathogen that had settled in my hand. The scratching would cause it to rise to the surface and take over my hand. It would probably be like in that movie I had to remove myself from when they unbandaged this guy’s hand only to find an alien growing out of it (District 9).
It was that fear that prevented me from putting a band-aid over my dripping wound. I wanted to see whatever the heck was going to materialize out of my appendage before it had a chance to surprise me. That way I could always resort to amputation if I deemed it necessary. I’m not above cutting off my own body parts to save myself. In fact, I always wondered why that scientist on Outbreak didn’t immediately cut off her finger when she pricked it with an infected needle. That would have been my first instinct. Chop first and think later. You can never be too safe.
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