New Southern Dad: Combating poison ivy with dish soap

I grew up believing that I was one of the lucky few that was not allergic to poison ivy.

Countless days of my youth had been spent rambling through forests and fields. My adolescence and young adult life had me working in yards and gardens. Through that time, never once had I experienced the itchy, oozing rash associated with this toxic plant.

Not that I ever made purposeful contact with it, but it never worried me when I saw a sprig climbing up the trunk of a tree or the side of a house. That is, until I found out I am very much allergic to poison ivy. And I found out the hard way, of course.

Back when I became a first-time homeowner, I was eager to make my own yard, which was bought as an overgrown mess, resemble the fine landscaped properties where I earned my living. After an afternoon of heavy brush removal, the itching began.

Now, if you’ve any experience with poison ivy, you know the sensation I am trying to describe. It is one that few words can accurately depict. The feeling goes far beyond an itch. An itch can be alleviated. This takes over your very being and encompasses your thoughts. At its worst you will even entertain an amputation. In the 1850s that was the primary solution for a gunshot wound, snake bite or toxic plant exposure.

Then comes the swelling and the oozing. Which is, quite frankly, as disgusting as it sounds. To cut a long story short, my first real encounter with poison ivy concluded with two miserable weeks of not trying to scratch at my arms, which were more leaky welts than human limbs.

I thought I had it bad, but I later met an unfortunate soul who inhaled the smoke of burning poison ivy. Look before you burn, folks.

Once healed, I had to overcome my fear quickly, because my spouse wasn’t going to live in a house with a half-cleaned yard.

There are numerous over-the-counter medications, ointments and washes marketed to treat or even prevent poison ivy reactions. They can be expensive, of course, but through a little trial and error and logical thinking, I developed my own remedy. Unfortunately, I cannot sell it myself, because I used an existing product, so I’ll share my method with you now: Dish soap and a cold shower.

Allow me to explain. Dish soap breaks down grease and oil, right? It’s the oil of poison ivy plant that causes a reaction, so dish soap should safely remove the toxins. Wash in cold water, because the temperature contracts human skin pores, blocking the oils from breaching the organ meant to protect the body. I’m surely not the first person to produce this theory, but I’m quite proud of myself because I’ve had no poison ivy rashes since.

I’ve also developed a particularly good eye at spotting poison ivy. That is until the other day. This dreaded vine has encroached my territory again, discovered the hard way of course, hitting a patch with the weed eater, undoubtedly creating a shower of potent plant oil.

The dish soap will be kept outside of the kitchen until further notice.