ACCOUNTANT BY DAY

Warning: I am about to chronicle my struggles with a recurring dermal fungal infection. This is also known as “too much information”. If you think this is totally gross and are going to be a big wussy about the whole thing, don’t read this. But if you want to hear about my plans to murder the fungus haunting my extremities, enjoy!

Thinking back on it, I don’t know where I picked this thing up. This weekend I conducted a haphazard research campaign on the topic of the athlete’s foot variety of fungal infections and learned that much like herpes, once infected, always infected, and you’re prone to recurring outbreaks. The main difference is that commercials for athlete’s foot medication never feature rosy cheeked young women in summery white dresses walking barefoot on a beach. That, and the lack of stigma associated with having contracted an incurable venereal disease.

Anyway, I remember having a severe case of athlete’s foot as a kid, which I caught at the community pool. It must have been pretty terrible because I remember my mother was really angry about it and threatened to have all my toenails surgically removed if we didn’t clear it up. At any rate, it cleared up at some point and my hands and feet were relatively normal again until I went away to college and started using the dorm showers. Despite shower shoes, it came back. Must have been the dampness. I’ve always had abnormally dry skin that tends to crack and bleed during periods of low humidity, and I suspect this has made my skin vulnerable to infections like this, even though dampness, not dryness, is the normal breeding ground for this sort of thing.

The college case hung around a while and came and went and at some point it spread to the thumb on my left hand. I managed to clear it up somewhat with over-the-counter antifungal creams, but last year it came back with a vengeance after I stayed at the Holiday Inn in Bakersfield, California. Technically I have no proof that hotel employees snuck into my room and smeared my body with a paste of tinea pedis, but seriously, what else would it be?

So since then I have suffered through a string of unsuccessful treatments. I have tried all the over the counter crap, the sprays, the creams, the ointments. I have tried the prescription creams. Every time, it clears up for a couple months, then returns just as bad as ever. At this point, based on my research and the longevity of this issue, I feel that I have two alternatives: ask for an oral antifungal, or attempt to solve my problem using an “alternative” treatment. I add the quotes there to show my general mistrust of alternative and homeopathic medicine, since it is inescapably tainted with the stench of crazy new age faith-based concepts rather than actual science. But I really don’t want to take oral antifungals if I don’t have to, because they are a) expensive and b) can damage your liver, meaning that c) they have to monitor you constantly for liver problems. Sounds like a serious drag.

So I began researching my alternative solutions. One website recommended using an infusion of herbs reduced and applied to the infection twice a day. No way. If specially designated creams meant to kill this fungus specifically had no effect, how is some freaking tea-tree oil, aloe vera and garlic thing supposed to be potent enough? I’m afraid not. Maybe that would suffice if your infection was the microscopic equivalent of Orlando Bloom in fungus form. But mine is more like Bruce Willis.

Then I read on multiple sites (and my boyfriend had mentioned this too) that bleach is an effective treatment for fungal infections. And although I might never have otherwise said that applying a solution of chlorine bleach to my skin seemed like a good idea, chlorine just seems like a more credible fungicide than any of that other crap, frankly. It’s a well known everything-i-cide. Nothing can live in an environment of pure chlorine.

So last night I diluted 2 ounces of chlorine bleach in 24 ounces of “the hottest water you can stand” as directed by one of the many websites I consulted in my quest to find out if there is a right way or a wrong way to apply bleach to one’s body. I soaked my hand in this solution for 15 minutes. By the end, I was dying to get my hand out. It itched like hell. I considered this a major positive. I have decided to view any dermal unpleasantness I experience during the course of this treatment as symbolic of the death throes of my fungus.

I scrubbed my hands with soap and water and applied more of the ketoconazole prescription cream to my hand, figuring it certainly wouldn’t hurt. When I woke up this morning my hand still stunk like an overchlorinated swimming pool. This cheered me. If the toxic chemical solution has permeated through the first couple layers of my skin, that means it was there all night, destroying fungal cells and refusing them any further purchase.

What the fungus doesn’t understand is that with the power of chlorine on my side, there is no way I will not come out the victor. Resistance is futile!