I’m allergic to this poison sumac stuff. Highly. While Chris can walk around in the woods out back and pick bouquets of poison sumac without issue, I end up with an itchy plague just thinking about it. Even if I have a full hazmat suit on, I can’t go near the stuff without catching hell.
So I can’t remove it from our yard, but I can’t entirely avoid it because it’s invaded our way-backyard to the point of no return.
I have to approach it with care.
It’s not a huge deal unless I forget it’s there. When I ignore it or forget about it, I end up covered in the oozing, itchy hives that last for days and cause significant discomfort. If I go into the woods without thinking ahead, I don’t regret it right away, but a few hours later, I’m riddled with a rash of regret.
… kind of like diabetes.
Which would make my endocrinologist or certified diabetes educator kind of like a landscaper. They’ve really grown on me, though. They do so mulch for me, especially when diabetes burnout is in full bloom. I really dig them.