Monte

I’ve been in an awful state of health lately. The list of ailments includes jock itch, pink eye, sore throat, itchy skin, along with intermittent bouts of restless legs syndrome.

My mother laughs when I tell her I’ve been experiencing restless legs syndrome. She doesn’t take my claim seriously—I blame the recent drug advertisements that have been running on television. One drug in particular warns that a possible side effect is the urge to gamble.

The symptoms are hard to describe. Every now and then when I’m sitting or laying in bed, the muscles in my legs begin to twitch and tense up. These uncomfortable feelings don’t go away until I move my legs around, at which point there is some relief, but shortly thereafter, the feeling comes back. It may not seem like too big of a deal, but when this cycle continues on and on while you’re trying to sleep, it can become maddening.

I think the problem stems from my awful diet recently and a lack of exercise. A quick search on Wikipedia reveals that an increase in my iron intake can reduce the symptoms, so I plan to start taking multivitamins and exercise.

Compared to the jock itch, the restless legs syndrome is a walk in the park. What began as an occasional itch has turned into a gruesome ordeal. One evening at James’ apartment, I was forced to take a very drastic (and stupid) measure. Since there was no Gold Bond or corn starch in the house, I decided that any old white powdery substance found in a pantry would do the trick, and so I sprinkled my dick with baking soda.

For awhile, the itching went away, but shortly thereafter, what began as a mildly unpleasant tingle turned into a searing pain that extended from my groin to my asshole.

I ran for the shower and washed and scrubbed and scratched until my poor penis was a bloody mess (not really, but it sure adds to the story).

That evening I ran out for jock itch medication and for the past two weeks I’ve been dutifully applying it twice a day. Soon after the jock itch incident, I got pink eye. I’m not sure if I caught the pink eye from James’ niece or if the infection began as a result of having scratched my fungus-infested balls and rubbed my eyes.

I went to the doctor for the pink eye, was given some eye drops, and used them for a week. I was smart, too—I threw my contacts away and wore glasses for a week until my eyes cleared up. When the pink eye was finally gone, I began wearing a fresh new pair of contacts. Unfortunately, I again did something stupid. I stored my new contacts in the same case as the old contacts, and so the pink eye returned. Imagine that.

To make matters worst, James gave me a cold, so now I’m stuffed up, tired, and I have a sore throat.

In addition, I’m convinced that James has some kind of black mold growing in his apartment because whenever I stay the night, I’m constantly coughing, sneezing, and scratching. My lungs are probably filled with black spores right now.

And speaking of fungus, I became so worried about my jock itch this afternoon that I looked it up on Wikipedia and came across numerous pictures of the world’s worst cases of jock itch. After seeing picture upon picture of bloody pustules, I’ve made myself sick.